Fire blazes a trail
by Cariad
Summary: Booth and Bones find themselves dealing with a gang that are stretching the FBI to its limits.
1. Fire

**Disclaimer **- Bones and all it's lovely characters belong to someone else.

* * *

The warehouse was an inferno. The flames were shooting up in the night sky and the oily clouds of roiling smoke were obscuring the stars. The fire danced eerily in reflections on the glass front of the car dealership across the road, mixed in with the flashing lights of scores of police cars. Emergency vehicles were parked in a rough semi-circle some distance from the front of the building as fire-fighters directed powerful hoses at the base of the fire trying to bring it under control. 

A SWAT team commander wiped sooty sweat from his forehead as he made his report, his voice didn't carry above the crackling, roaring flames and insistent whoosh of high pressure jets of water, but the shake of his head and his grim demeanour made it clear that he was not happy.

Special Agent Seeley Booth was slumped on the lower step of an ambulance, his head bowed and his left arm cradled against his chest. He was dressed for fieldwork: dark, practical gear and a Kevlar vest; rather than a smart suit. His close fitting top was charred across the shoulder and down his left arm. The fabric of his top was tough, designed to be fire resistant, but in a few places it had burnt through revealing raw, seared skin.

He looked up slowly as a familiar voice called his name. The heat of the inferno and the exertion of dragging himself from the building had caused the sweat to cut rivulets in the grime caking his face. Under the sooty layer he was pale and drawn although there was a livid, red welt high on his left cheek. His pain and exhaustion were obvious from the tiny lines around his eyes and the hollow cheeks, but his lips still twitched into a hint of a smile as he breathed out, "Bones."

Dr Temperance Brennan's breath hitched in her throat as she took in her partner's injuries and his exhausted pain-filled gaze. She reached towards him involuntarily, her hand hovering just above his right shoulder, afraid to touch and cause more pain.

He stared at her hand and looked up at her, his brown eyes clouded and dazed.

She shivered as she recalled him lying still and burnt in her kitchen. She closed her eyes and then blinked them open. The kitchen was banished but the hollow feeling in her stomach and the dull thudding ache in her chest had not gone away.

She bit her lip and slowly shook her head, "Booth." She paused and swallowed, " Are you..?." She trailed off, eyes closed, as she felt tears prick the back of her eyes.

He took a shuddering breath and his mouth quirked into a ghost of a smile, "I'm still in the land of the living Bones... I guess."

She managed to squeeze out a tiny smile of her own and allowed her fingers to brush his shoulder lightly for a moment, needing the reassurance of physical contact.

"Has a doctor checked you out yet?" She asked realising that his wounds hadn't been treated.

He shook his head, "They've got their hands full. I can wait."

He waved away her protest, "More ambulances are on the way."

"You at least need a painkiller now, Booth." She said softly.

They locked gazes, neither looking away.

"Did they get them?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

She shook her head and pulled her coat tighter around her.

He leant back until his head was resting against the door of the ambulance, feeling defeat wash through him as he watched most of their evidence being consumed by the conflagration. Six months work. Eight bodies that the squints had extracted every clue from. Now, all they had to show for it was four dead agents, many more injured and a fire that was threatening to consume half a city block. His head rolled to the side and he saw Cullen's face settling into a grim frown as he listened to the SWAT team commander's report.

He turned back to face Bones and saw that her blue eyes were filled with concern. Looking into those depths, he imagined what might have happened if she had been inside with him. His chest constricted and he started forward, jarring his arm and sending waves of pain coursing through his body. His vision swam as the world around him seemed to tilt and distort.

He could feel himself toppling forwards and then Bones was kneeling beside him, bracing him with one arm around his waist and the other pushing gently against his right shoulder. He could hear her calling his name softly, desperately; then everything went black.

TBC


	2. Unconcious

**Disclaimer** - Bones and all its lovely characters belong to someone else.

**A/N** - Thank you for the encouraging reviews of the first chapter. Sorry updating has been slow, but the last week has been crazy.

* * *

Deputy Director Cullen caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and turned in time to see Booth almost sliding off the lower step of the ambulance before being caught by his squint. His already sombre expression darkened further as he realised that his lead agent was more badly injured than he'd been letting on. He spoke quickly into his radio, tersely ordering a medical team to attend immediately. 

The SWAT team commander, whose black uniform had ANDREWS written in two inch letters on his chest, was also watching Booth. The slight narrowing of his eyes the subtle evidence that he shared the Director's concern.

As Cullen signed off on the radio, he turned back to Andrews, "We'll finish up later." He paused and jerked his head in the direction of Booth, "I'm going to check up on my agent." He closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed his forehead, "The other ambulances are still about ten minutes away." Involuntarily his gaze slid towards the blaze still raging out of control.

The commander nodded and fell into step with Cullen as he strode across the parking lot, glass blown out from scores of windows crackling under their shoes as they walked.

"Agent Booth did a good job today." Andrews observed as they stepped round what looked like a pile of charred office furniture.

Cullen looked across at him silently, then inclined his head.

"We'd have lost a lot more people without him scouting ahead." There was a pause as both men reflected on the losses they had sustained anyway. Andrew's hand tightened around his weapon as he ground out his next sentence, "We've gotta find these bastards..."

The silence stretched out again. Cullen felt an stab of impotent fury at the debacle that the case had turned into. It had taken six months of sustained work to identify the key players, pin down their base of operations and then wait for the right moment to move against them. During that six months it had become clear that countless other investigations, which had been regarded as unconnected, were all part of the same criminal operation. As far as Cullen could tell the Bureau had been looking into aspects of the gang's operations for over ten years, but never seeing the big picture, until now.

Cullen's jaw clenched as a secondary explosion ripped through the side of the warehouse, raining fiery debris across the road. He half-turned, shielding his face with his hand, but was relieved to see that flames were shooting out horizontally on an unoccupied side of the building. He could see the fire crews scurrying to reposition the hoses and redouble their efforts to damp down the fire.

* * *

Bones shifted trying to manage her partner's unconscious bulk. She hooked his right arm over her shoulder and then, with her face buried aginst the right side of his chest, she lifted him up and back on to the step. She stood up slightly, until her face was level with his and then gently supported his lolling head with one hand. It was an awkward position, but she didn't dare move as she knew that she was the only thing keeping Booth from slipping onto the hard, glass-crusted tarmac. 

Her eyes narrowed in concern as she took in his shallow breathing and the grey tinge to his skin.

"Booth, wake up." She repeated quietly.

There was no response.

"Booth..." Her voice quavered slight and she told a deep breath to steady herself, "Please?"

She didn't even register the explosion behind her and the increasing roar of the flames. All her attention was focused on her partner.

* * *

Awareness slowly came back, but he felt as though he was swimming through treacle backwards. He registered pain and caught the acrid scent of fire and smoke; these set off distant, shimmering recollections. 

Then he heard a sound, a voice. He couldn't make out the words but knew that they weren't important. He struggled to focus on the voice.

Slowly the darkness receded.

He blinked sluggishly as consciousness returned.

He was distantly aware of the shouting agony running down his left side, but all his overtaxed mind could take in was the way that Bones' blue eyes, just inches from his face, widened with relief at he looked at her.

She took a slow breath and the arm around his waist tightened. Her eyes drifted shut and she leant in until their foreheads were touching, still murmuring his name.

Booth realised that his right arm was hooked over her shoulder and he gave her a gentle squeeze, "It's okay Bones."

He felt her half laugh, half sob against his cheek.

"Hey, come on." He started to stroke her back, "It's just everything catching up with both of us."

She nodded slightly, but her smile froze as she felt his body tense.

She drew back slightly, worried, and saw that Booth was looking up over her head, a wary expression in his pain-hazed eyes.

"Sir?" He said quietly.

She turned quickly, wincing at his sharp intake of breath as her sudden movement jarred his abused body, and found herself facing Booth's grim-faced boss.

* * *

"How long was he out?" Cullen asked, coming to a halt right next to them. His frown deepened as he took in the extent of Booth's burns and his unhealthy pallor. 

"Uh. A couple of minutes." Bones said, finding her voice at last.

Cullen nodded. "Ambulance is on its way." He looked impatiently at his watch, as though wishing he could make the rescue vehicle materialise in front of him. "Dr Brennan, you'll accompany Agent Booth to the hospital and make sure he stays for the appropriate treatment."

Booth started to protest.

"Agent Booth, you're no use to me or anyone else in this state. I'm not having you putting things at risk while trying to work when you should be in a hospital bed. You'll be back on this case when I say so." Cullen paused and stepped closer, his expression softening slightly, "Just go to the damned hospital, Booth. I'll let you know what we find out."

Booth's jaw unclenched, "Fine," he said.

Cullen clapped him lightly on the shoulder and said in an undertone, "Take care Booth," before heading back across the parking lot.

The SWAT team commander, who had been hovering in the background, was about to follow when he stopped and gave Booth a half-salute, "Sir?" Booth shrugged to indicate that he should carry on, "Hope they can patch you up okay." Another brief pause, "And thanks." With that, he was gone.

Booth let out a breath and edged along the step so that there was room for Bones to sit too.

They shared a wordless glance and then she sat, her arm still around his waist and his arm still resting on her shoulders.

They sat in a comfortable silence. Then they both heard a distant sound and looked up, listening, as the sirens drew closer.


	3. Ambulance

**Disclaimer** - Bones and all its lovely characters belong to someone else

**A/N -** Hello, thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter.

* * *

The ambulance rushed through the late evening traffic, sirens blaring. In the back, a paramedic hooked up an IV and administered a painkiller to his patient. After a few minutes the medication began to take hold and the harsh lines that pain had etched into the FBI agent's face lessened slightly and his eyes started to look unfocused. Up front the driver radioed the hospital to alert them to their incoming burns victim, and the twenty or so other causalities who were on their way. 

Bones could hear the radio conversation, but her attention was focused on Booth. She had insisted that she accompany her partner in the ambulance, informing the startled crew that her instructions came directly from an FBI Deputy Director. Neither the paramedic nor his driver wanted to waste time arguing, but it hadn't gone unnoticed that, orders notwithstanding, she had not loosened her grip on the agent's hand from the moment they had laid him down on the narrow bed in the ambulance.

Booth felt his eyes growing heavier as the drugs washed through his system, smothering the pain. His thoughts became fragmentary and indistinct as his mind slowed down and head seemed to fill with cotton wool.

He noticed the ambulance was swaying like a boat from side to side to side as it rushed along. He liked boats.

He liked the steady flash of blue red, blue red that flickered across his legs. His eyes watched the lights in fascination before his gaze slowly travelled up to where his hand lay cupped in a smaller delicate hand.

_Bones_. He thought. He was unaware of the tiny sigh that escaped as he tried to squeeze the hand back. _Better than a boat _was his last conscious thought, as weariness and morphine sucked him under leaving a hint of smile on his lips.

The paramedic noticed his patient drift off as he pressed the stethoscope to his chest. The heart beat was steady, albeit less strong than he would have wished and he noticed that the agent's skin was prickling with gooseflesh. He pulled the blankets up keep the injured man warm and to ward off shock.

He half-turned at a sudden intake of breath behind him and saw that his passenger was struggling to keep her composure.

"He's going to be fine Ma'am." He nodded reassuringly as she looked at him sharply. There were no tears on her face, but the lashes framing the blue-green eyes were glistening. "He's basically a strong, fit guy. He's gonna be off his feet for a while, but no long-term damage." He paused, "Limited scarring too."

She swallowed rapidly, her emotions naked on her face for a split second before her stoical mask descended and she thanked him quietly.

* * *

The hospital was busy. The chaos of the emergency room a stark contrast to the quiet of the ambulance. Temperance followed the trolley wheeling her partner, when the paramedic placed a restraining hand on her arm. 

"Ma'am, you need to fill out some forms." He gestured towards the desk and then turned to confer with the doctor who had emerged from the wards behind.

Temperance stood watching helplessly as Booth was wheeled away through the swing doors at the end of the room, the doctor barking out a volley of orders. After a moment, she headed towards the desk.

The receptionist was distressingly bright and professional. She pulled up the records the ambulance had phoned in, "Special Agent Seeley Booth is the patient?" She queried.

"Yes, that's correct." Temperance replied after a moment.

The receptionist smiled, "Excellent. I just need a few details." She handed over an electronic pad with a series of questions.

Temperance was faintly surprised that she could answer almost all the questions. Booth's recent hospitalisation due to a bomb in her fridge meant she knew the name of his doctor and that he was violently allergic to a common antibiotic. The only question that gave her pause was the one querying her relationship with the patient. Several highly inappropriate answers flew through her head. She jabbed the electronic pad with the stylus as she spelt out 'partner' and ignored the voices in her head urging her to write 'I wish', dismissing it as a natural reaction to all the stress.

She handed the pad back and the receptionist quickly reviewed the answers before inclining her head in satisfaction. "You can go on through and wait, Dr Brennan." She said, pointing towards the swing doors.

"Please turn any mobile phones off though." She added as Temperance was already halfway towards the doors.

She paused for a moment and pulled out her phone, then dialled a number. She waited and then a tired, but tense voice came on the line, "Sweetie, how did it go? We've been waiting at the lab for news."

Temperance's grip on the phone turned white-knuckled and she took a deep breath to steady herself, "Oh Angela..."


	4. Hospital

**Disclaimer** - Bones and all its lovely characters belong to someone else

**A/N** - Thank you for reading, and thanks very much for the reviews of previous chapters.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, a heavily armed FBI agent swung the doors open and waved Angela through. 

She paused momentarily to thank him before hurrying down the stark, impersonal corridor, her expressive features set in a worried frown. The tight security, large number of ambulances parked outside and the overcrowding in reception were clear indications that something serious had gone down that evening. She was certain that she would never have made it past the door if Temperance had not somehow arranged for her name to be placed on the list of approved visitors. Angela briefly wondered who at the FBI Temperance had asked to arrange it, knowing that it could not have been Booth.

Then she dismissed the question and replayed their brief phone conversation. The uncharacteristic but obvious distress underlying her friend's description of Booth's injuries had worried her more than the description itself. The hurried, hesitant request that she came to hospital had sent her out of the Jeffersonian at a sprint, Jack in tow. She had been grateful for his offer to drive and she had left him attempting to find a spot to park.

The lengthy corridor suddenly opened out into a windowless waiting area, filled with rows of uncomfortable looking plastic chairs. A few abandoned children's toys and tatty magazines were dotted around the place and there were another armed agent, but aside from that it was largely empty. Few people, it seemed, were being permitted access to this area.

A lonely figure was sat in a chair in the far corner. Arms folded across her chest, her head was leaning back against the wall and her eyes were closed.

Closing the distance, Angela called her friend's name softly.

Temperance's eyes snapped open and she stood up just in time to enveloped in Angela's warm hug. After a moment or two, Angela released her and looked at her questioningly.

"They say he's going to be fine." Temperance said, replying to the unasked question. "He's being treated now. Burns. A few broken bones. The doctor'll have more details later." She paused and sat back down, her whole body rigid with tension.

Angela sat too. She was concerned at how pale her friend was and asked, "Sweetie. Are you okay?"

Temperance nodded silently, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

Angela waited.

Temperance brushed irritably at her eyes and swallowed, "It's just so soon after the last time..." Her voice trailed off and Angela knew that she was picturing the devastation in her kitchen from the bomb and terrifying kidnapping ordeal that had followed.

"Sweetie, you both came out of that okay." Angela smiled reassuringly. "And you got through all that happened in New Orleans. This'll be the same."

There was another silence, then Temperance whispered, "But what happens the next time, or the next? There's going to be a time when it's not okay - it's statistically inevitable."

Angela laid a gentle hand on Temperance's arm, "Sweetie, Booth has a dangerous job and as his partner you get to take a lot of the same risks, but don't go borrowing trouble." She paused and sighed, "There's no statistical formula that tells you when your luck is going to run out. Booth's a federal agent, he knows what's he's dealing with. He's prepared." Angela looked her friend in the eye, "I worry more about you."

Temperance smiled slightly and shook her head, "I was firmly kept at a safe distance today."

Angela raised an eyebrow, "What and you weren't tempted to ignore the instruction?"

"It would have been a bit difficult as Deputy Director Cullen was keeping an eye on me." Temperance replied with a shrug.

"What actually happened this evening anyway?" Angela asked, "And what's with all the security here?"

Temperance glanced around quickly and then leant closer, "They think they've found one of them - really badly injured but still alive." She waved an arm in the direction of the agent standing in the entrance to the wards, "Hence all the security." She paused, "And as for what happened today..."

* * *

_(Flashback)_

_It was early evening. The sun was setting and the western skyline was aflame with golden red clouds. _

_It was quiet. _

_Most of the businesses had closed up for the day. Metal shutters had rolled down locking up warehouses and showrooms. A last few cars were pulling out of parking lots as managers or cleaners went home at the end of a long day._

_If you looked closer, and knew what to look for, the scene was not as quiet and empty as it seemed. In one particular building, towards the edge of the industrial estate, a non-descript blue van pulled up. At some unspoken signal, the automatic door rolled up and the van pulled inside. _

_The watchers strained to see inside, but t__he door was descending again even as the van passed underneath it. As the door crunched into the tarmac, silence fell again._

_The sun dipped lower below the horizon and shadowy figures began to close in on the building._

_A large sea-container had been delivered a fortnight ago to a wholesale business across the street. A large number of crates had been removed from it, but it was still sitting in the parking lot, backed up against the side of the building next to a door. _

_It had served as an observation point for two weeks and had now been pressed into service as an operations centre. Deputy Director Cullen was holding a last minute conference with the primary team. Two armed men, clad in dark, form-fitting clothing and body armour stood in front of him. One would be leading the SWAT team in; the other would be in charge of a much smaller reconnaissance team that would lead the way._

_Behind them, a handful of technicians were monitoring the bank of surveillance cameras and listening to radio and phone data. Everything seemed routine._

_A final grim nod and word of caution and the two men were dismissed. Cullen turned to face the monitors as they left, the SWAT team commander leading the way. The second man paused in the doorway to speak with a figure wreathed in shadows. _

_The figure stepped forward and laid an hand on the man's arm. _

_"Be careful Booth." She said._

_The familiar cocky grin answered her concerns, "I'm always careful Bones." He paused and gently squeezed her hand, "You stay out of trouble."_

_The shared a brief smile and then he walked out into the rapidly cooling evening air._

_The next two hours were spent staring at the grainy images from the night vision cameras and listening to terse radio reports, as the teams moved in. There was little to report and no hint of alarm from within the warehouse._

_Just before ten, Booth and his team moved into the building. Followed almost immediately by the SWAT team._

_Events then began to speed up, before finally spinning out of control._

_Booth's team penetrated deeper into the warehouse. Seeing no sign of people, but becoming increasingly concerned by the stacks of unmarked barrels left strategically in each room._

_Booth ordered the SWAT team to hold at a perimeter, convinced that something was up. _

_His team pressed onwards and finally arrived at an office, with heavily blacked-out internal windows and a disguised entrance, behind which they knew lurked an altogether different business to the industrial cleaners that provided a front._

_Scraping off a sliver of paint on one of the windows, Booth peered down into the room._

_The lights were blazing, but there was no-one around. Crates were stacked all around. They'd need to get closer to see which of the gang's surprisingly diverse line of goods they contained. Booth was convinced that this was a the home of their counterfeiting distribution, but the majority of people at the Bureau were betting on arms dealing. _

_Booth signalled to the rest of his three man team to wait, as he disarmed the door alarm and then pushed the door open. _

_The blue van from earlier stood silently in the corner, but the place seemed deserted. Booth disquiet mounted - something was wrong._

_Then he spotted the steps leading downwards; to a basement not shown on the blueprints._

_He made a split second decision to order everyone to fall back. _

_They had just exited the office when all hell broke loose. _

_Gunfire opened up outside and the radio came alive with reports of two agents down. _

_Half a minute later the first explosion happened. A dull detonation from somewhere behind them, then a whoomp of fiery hot air blasted along the corridor._

_Booth's team stumbled but kept going. All around them barrels were exploding. _

_The whole building had been wired as a giant bomb._

_One explosion knocked Booth off his feet. The side of his face made contact with the rough concrete floor and he felt a sickening crack in collarbone; then a flaming chunk of the ceiling crashed onto his side. _

_The pain was excruciating. He could feel the flames eating through his fire-retardant top and searing his skin._

_With a superhuman effort he pushed the flaming mass away and then forced himself upright. _

_He spotted another man down, groaning weakly. With the help of his other team-mate, he half-dragged, half-carried, the other man towards the exit._

_As they arrived at the doorway, eager hands helped them._

_Booth waved off a medical team and ordered them to help the other man. Three ambulances had been on standby, but by the time Booth made it out two were already on their way to the hospital with victims of the brief, but vicious gunfight. The third team of paramedics concentrated on stabilising the man Booth had helped._

_He made his way slowly and painfully towards the ambulance, planning to wait for treatment once the critical cases had been dealt with. _

_He sat on the step, exhausted with pain, when he heard a familiar footstep._


	5. Wait

**Disclaimer** - Bones and all its lovely characters belong to someone else.

**A/N** - Thank you for reading and reviewing. Sorry for the delay in posting!

* * *

Angela watched the emotions flicker on her friend's face as she described the evening's operation, the fire and Booth's injuries. She could hear Temperance reaching for the clinical detachment that kept the grim tragedy of identifying murder victims bearable, but this time it wasn't helping. The events were too personal and too starkly real. Her voice faltered as she described seeing the screen flash white with the fierce explosion and hearing Booth's pain-filled grunt as he'd been knocked off his feet by the blast and then buried in flaming debris. 

Angela could guess at the unspoken chill that had suffused Temperance's body at that moment, wondering if her partner was alive or dead and she suppressed a shiver as memories of the numbing uncertainty she'd felt when Kirk had disappeared rose up unbidden. She reached across and clasped Temperance's hand.

Temperance looked up sharply and then inclined her head almost imperceptibly, grateful for the silent support.

They waited.

Ten minutes passed in silence. Angela considered picking up one the magazines lying on the chair next to her, but changed her mind after imagining the mixture of DNA samples that Jack might get off the crumpled, stained cover. She settled back in her chair and started tracing the pattern of ceiling tiles, counting off each row.

More time passed before the silence was broken by the sound of footsteps.

Temperance half rose before realising that the sound was coming from the main corridor, not the emergency room that Booth had been taken to.

She slumped back down; tense once again.

Angela continued to stare at the corridor and was rewarded with the sight of Jack approaching carrying a tray of coffees. His blue eyes caught hers questioningly.

Her glance conveyed her uncertainty about how both Booth and Temperance were really doing and also a warning to tread carefully.

Jack nodded slightly and squared his shoulders. He strode over and handed Angela a cup coffee, his fingers brushing against hers. Angela's gaze jerked back to his face and they stared uncertainly at each for a moment before looking away.

Temperance stirred from her reverie and managed a weak smile of greeting.

"Hodgins." She acknowledged.

"Brennan." He replied, recovering from the tingling surprise of the moment before, and handed her a hot chocolate.

Temperance's smile brightened a little more, "Thanks."

"You're welcome. I didn't think you'd have had chance to grab anything." He paused, his blue eyes piercing, "God, I'm can't believe we're back in this place again! I hate hospitals."

Angela looked at him in horror, but Temperance simply shrugged, "Not as much as Booth is going to hate it when he wakes up!"

Jack snorted, "For a tough guy, he sure can moan about hospital."

Temperance laughed slightly and sipped her drink.

Angela stared at the two of them in shock. Jack winked at her and sat down.

Moments later there was a movement in the doorway where the agent was standing guard.

Temperance handed her drink to Angela unseeingly and walked towards the man who had emerged in his surgical scrubs.

The doctor looked tired, but he nodded politely in greeting, "Dr Brennan, wasn't it?"

"Yes." she replied.

"Your partner is in recovery. He's going to be sore for a while, but he's going to be fine." He reported and watched her shoulders sag with relief and her eyes moisten for a moment before she blinked them dry.

"He was very lucky. The burns on his left side were extensive, but generally not more than second degree. The worst of it is on the outer part of his upper arm, but fortunately it missed his shoulder, so there should be no loss of movement from any scarring." The doctor paused to rub his tired eyes. "He's also cracked four ribs. Two which are fractures next to old breaks. He's also broken his clavicle and has chipped a bone in his cheek. There was some internal bleeding from the impact, but we got that stabilised quickly." He paused again, "That's about it."

Temperance's eyes narrowed. The list was long enough as it was; she didn't want to think about how much worse it could have been.

"Can I see him?" She asked.

The doctor pursed his lips, "He's not likely to be conscious I'm afraid, and he's very unlikely to be coherent."

"Please." She said quietly.

The doctor stared at her for a moment and then nodded, "Okay." He was about to turn and lead the way, when he noticed that Angela and Jack had come to stand next to their friend.

The doctor tilted his head on one side and sighed, "You two as well?"

Angela smiled encouragingly at him.

"Fine." He said turning on his heel without waiting to see if they were following. After a short trip down the corridor, he paused outside a door and peered through the window.

"The nurses are just finishing up. You'll need to wait here until they're done and then go in. It should only be a few minutes."

He was about to leave, when Temperance laid a restraining hand on his arm, "Thank you. Doctor..?" Her tone was querying.

"Dr Davies." He smiled for the first time, "And you're welcome." Then he headed off back the way they had come.

* * *

Temperance stood with her back to the glass, waiting. After a few minutes, the door opened and two nurses stepped out. They shot quizzical looks at the three people standing outside. 

"Dr Davies let you through?" The taller of the nurses questioned.

Temperance nodded jerkily, then asked, "Can we go in?"

"Yes, of course." She replied, then added, "He's asleep though."

Temperance just shrugged and then pushed away from the wall and walked into the room. She was struck with a disturbing sense of deja vu as she breathed in the unmistakeable scent of hospital and antiseptic and looked at her partner bare-chested, but swathed in bandages, with an IV in his arm.

She hesitated for a moment then crossed the room, watching his still form anxiously. She noticed that he was still very pale, but was relieved by his regular breathing. She reached out to touch his arm as she sank down onto the chair next to the bed. Her right hand remained resting on his wrist.

Angela and Hodgins watched, forgotten, from the doorway.

"Sweetie, are you going to stay here?" Angela asked quietly.

Temperance nodded, turning to face her friends, "Thank you for coming Ange, and you too, Hodgins. You don't have to stay."

Angela shook her head slightly and walked over to stand next to the bed, "I'm just going to make a few calls. We'll be back"

"Okay." Temperance replied and watched them leave the room before focusing all her attention on Booth's sleeping form.

She placed her elbow on the edge of the bed and leant her chin on her left hand watching his chest rise and fall. Her gaze strayed up towards his face and she frowned slightly as she noticed the swelling on his cheek and the dark hollows around his eyes.

Without thinking she took his hand again and squeezed it gently, "I hate sitting here like this, Booth. I hate seeing you like this."

There was a pause, and then a tired weak voice replied, "Believe it or not, I'm not doing it to annoy you, Bones."

He didn't open his eyes, but Temperance felt her chest constrict and then expand with joy at the whispered sentence.

Neither spoke as they allowed themselves to be overwhelmed by the welter of emotions.

After a few moments, sense returned. Temperance became aware that her thumb was rubbing circles on the hand that lay cradled in hers and she tried to withdraw.

"Don't." He said rolling his head to the side on the pillow and opening his eyes a crack, "Please."

Her face lit with a smile in response and she squeezed his hand gently.

His eyes closed again, satisfied, and he drifted off into sleep.

* * *


	6. Bandages

**Disclaimer - **Bones and all its lovely characters belong to someone else.

**A/N - **Really, really sorry that this has taken an age to update, but I can't even begin to describe how busy work has been.

* * *

Angela tugged Hodgins' arm, pulling him away from Booth's door and down the corridor. He followed willingly enough, not sure why Angela had left the instant that they had been allowed in to see Booth. He supposed that she wanted to give Brennan some time alone with him. He rubbed the back of his head tiredly for a moment as he decided that he really didn't want to have to keep coming to visit friends in hospital. Angela tugged at his arm again, urging him back they way they had come. 

As they rounded the corner, the doors to the waiting area that they had been sitting in earlier swung open and a trio of serious-faced men marched through deep in conversation. Angela immediately recognised the bald-headed man in the middle as Booth's boss and Amy's father, Deputy Director Cullen. He looked tired, deep lines of fatigue showed around his eyes and Angela thought that he'd lost weight.

Angela sighed, the last time she'd seen him had been at the funeral three months before. She had worked with Amy to produce a computer art show which had provided a background to the memorial service. Even though she had only known Amy for a few months she still felt an ache for a loss which had been so senseless and wasteful. Booth had said that Cullen was coping and this case had provided a welcome problem to focus on. Angela wondered how he would deal with the way events had played out and the casualty list.

Hodgins' hand suddenly came to rest on her shoulder and Angela stopped and looked up at him in surprise.

He inclined his head to suggest that they get out the way of the group which was sweeping towards them and had not even registered their presence.

Angela nodded slightly and leant against the wall. She couldn't catch much of the conversation between the approaching men as their voices were pitched in low, urgent tones.

As he drew level with them, Cullen looked up his eyes widening in recognition.

"Ms Montenegro, Dr Hodgins." He said quietly, his grim expression softening slightly as he greeted Angela.

"Deputy Director." Angela acknowledged him and Hodgins gave a half smile and a nod.

Cullen waved the other two men off, telling them that he'd catch them up, "You're here to see Agent Booth I take it?"

They both nodded.

"Bren is with him." Angela said, "We're just heading out for a few minutes. You know, call the office..."

Cullen raised a eyebrow slightly then inclined his head in acknowledgement, "Which room is he in?"

"104, left and down the corridor." Angela said pointing behind her.

Cullen nodded, "Thanks." He said and headed off down the corridor with a brief wave.

"Man's got a lot on his mind." Hodgins observed and then steered Angela along the corridor, his hand still resting on her shoulder.

They emerged into the waiting area. The same silent agent was still standing in the doorway. He inclined his head to acknowledge them and then returned to scanning the exits, his gun resting loosely against his chest.

"Do you think I can call from here?" Angela asked.

Hodgins gave a non-committal shrug.

Without looking at either of them, the agent replied, "No ma'am. No mobile phones here. You need to go out into reception or there's a payphone in the corner."

"Thanks." Angela replied and pulled away from Hogdins to head over to the payphone. She closed her eyes for a moment to recall the number, then jabbed the digits for the lab.

She listened to the tone waiting for Zach to pick up. Suddenly, she felt Hogdins' hand on the small of her back and had to supress a shiver.

"Coffee?"

"Uh... sure." She replied, unsettled by her reaction to his friendly gesture. At that moment the phone connected and she heard Zach's sleepy greeting.

"Zach, it's me."

"Angela!" She smiled, she could almost hear him sitting up straighter and trying to look alert, "Is everything okay?" He added worriedly.

"Oaky-ish. Booth's going to be in here for a few days, but no permanent damage. Bren's keeping an eye on him..." She replied.

"Does Dr Brennan need me to do anything?" Angela gave an indulgent eye roll.

"No Zach, nothing tonight. There was a fire, so they may have something for us tomorrow." She paused to look at her watch, "Well, later today I guess. You head home and get some sleep, we'll see you at the lab later."

After exchanging goodbyes she rang off and turned to find Hogdins pressing a coffee from the vending machine into her hand.

She smiled distractedly and wondered why she hadn't noticed what an intense blue his eyes were before.

* * *

Deputy Director Cullen counted off the doors as he walked along the sterile, silent corridor. He halted outside 104, his hand hovering over the door handle as he peered through the window. 

The blinds were open and his frown deepened as he saw that Booth was hooked up to an IV with most of his upper body covered in bandages. He looked as though he was asleep.

Cullen stretched to get a view of the rest of the room. He frown increased for a moment and then relaxed as a faint smile tugged at his lips.

The wider view revealed that Bones had pulled a chair right up against the side of the bed and was holding Booth's hand tightly between both of hers.

Booth's head turned towards his partner and his eyes flickered open. Cullen couldn't tell what he said, but saw a smile light up the doctor's features before she gently stroked Booth's cheek.

Cullen's hand withdrew from the handle.

He'd call back later.

* * *

Cullen caught up with the two men he'd been walking with when he'd met Angela and Hodgins. They were standing next to four heavily armed agents, standing at loose attention, guarding the entrance to a corridor. 

"Well?" He asked.

"Docs are still operating, Sir." The taller man said, "Said it'll be touch and go. He was pretty messed up."

Cullen set his jaw with frustration "Any idea when we're going to be able to talk to him?"

The taller man gave an apologetic glance, "I asked that sir. The doc said that it would be if, not when."

Cullen gave an explosive sigh trying to bring his frustration under control, "Then I guess we wait." He paused for a moment, "Have we got all his personal effects, clothes?"

"Yes sir. On their way to the lab. There's an encrypted PDA and some notes - the crypto guys'll be crawling all over that." The other man replied this time.

"Good. I want to know as soon as there's any change in this guy's status." He instructed the men on the door, then motioned to the other agents to follow him to some scattered chairs and a table.

"Special Agent Mahoney, you're now the lead agent for the warehouse investigation."

The taller man said, "Thank you sir. What about Agent Booth?"

Cullen ignored the question, "Special Agent Decker, you'll be liasing with Mahoney and the wider investigation."

The other agent nodded.

There was a pause, "Agent Booth is going to be stuck here for a while yet judging by the bandages. The investigation can't wait for his recovery. Once he's fit to be back in the field, I'm sure there'll be plenty for him to do on this case." Cullen paused, "Unless you manage to solve it by then gentleman."

He stood up. "I'll be downtown. Call me if you get anything."

The two agents stood and watched their boss walk away.

"Damn!" Mahoney said a slow smirk spreading across his features.

Decker looked at him curiously.

"I forgot to ask if this means I get to be the foxy Bone Doctor's partner."

Decker shook his head, "Booth shot the last agent who messed with her."

Mahoney gave an impatient snort, "Yeah, those were pretty special circumstances though. Kenton was trying to kill her."

Decker shrugged, "True, but Booth's whole attitude to her is above and beyond."

"Whatever. There's at least one body from the fire that'll need checking out. Maybe I'll call into the Jeffersonian tomorrow and introduce myself."

"Your funeral Don." Decker said shaking his head and heading off towards the exit.


	7. Night

**Disclaimer - **Bones and all its lovely characters belong to someone else.

**A/N - **Thanks for reading and for the kind comments on the previous, long delayed chapter.

* * *

Deputy Director Cullen walked purposefully along the maze-like corridors of the hospital. He'd carried out his duty as far as the investigation was concerned. He'd checked out the status of their suspected gang member and assigned agents to take on the investigation of the case over the next few days. Now he was focused on finding out how his injured men were. 

He was pretty certain Booth was going to be fine from the brief glimpse he'd caught through the window, but he had three other FBI agents with serious injuries in the hospital somewhere and ten who'd been classified as walking wounded at the scene. That initial diagnosis wasn't something he had much faith in given that Booth had been neatly slotted into that category in the chaotic darkness around the warehouse. He couldn't blame the over-stretched medical team, after all Booth _had_ been walking and that was a lot more than could be said for the agent that Booth and the third member of his advance team had dragged to the exit.

Cullen was also aware that there were a handful of SWAT guys who'd been embroiled in the initial gunfight and had been rushed to the hospital ahead of the bulk of the casualties. He could claim that they weren't his responsibility as they were employed by the DC police department, but truth be told in his mind they'd become his responsibility the second they'd joined the operation.

He grimaced as he contemplated the explanations, interviews and paperwork that would be required by the investigation into how the evening's operation had gone so badly wrong. The involvement of the DC SWAT team, which had been welcomed as a real demonstration of federal co-operation with local law enforcers, would now simply add to the miasma of bureaucracy and ass-covering. It wasn't that he didn't want to know how the warehouse had come to be rigged as a giant bomb seemingly in preparation for his team to enter, but he couldn't shake the feeling that if they reduced the focus on the gang even slightly, they'd vanish once again.

In his preoccupation, Cullen didn't see the white coated doctor until he almost walked into her.

Apologising, he picked up the papers she'd dropped in their near collision and he noticed the name of one of his agents on the chart.

"How's he doing doctor?" He asked, as he handed back the papers and flipped out his ID.

The doctor glanced at the badge and accompanying pass and then looked him straight in the eye, "He's hanging on in there, but he's lost a lot of blood. We've got the internal bleeding stabilised for now, but he has multiple gunshot wounds. We'll know more in the next few hours."

She reached out to touch Cullen's arm and recapture gaze, "I'm sorry I can't be more encouraging..." She left the sentence hang in the air.

Cullen waved her apology away and pulled out a card, "Please have someone call me the moment there's any change."

The doctor nodded her acquiescence and took the card. Cullen then asked for an up date on the other causalities. The doctor pointed him in the direction of the senior surgeon in the emergency department who had been overseeing the handling of the evening's influx of patients.

* * *

A quarter of an hour later, a slightly reassured Deputy Director was once again standing outside Booth's room. 

This time, through the window he could see that Angela and Hodgins had finished their phonecalls and were keeping Booth and his partner company. He was amused to note that Bones still had Booth's hand firmly clasped in her own.

He tapped lightly on the door and pushed it open and three heads swung towards him as he walked in.

"How's he doing?" He asked, bracing himself for a deluge of technical mumbo-jumbo from the forensic anthropologist.

"He's sleeping." Bones replied, glaring at him as if he was disturbing the patient.

Angela's eyes darted from her friend to Booth's boss and then she gestured towards the door. Cullen's eyes narrowed slightly, but he followed Angela out.

Angela smiled apologetically, "Sorry, she's just yelled - quietly - at Jack and me for making too much noise. How she expects us to disturb him with the dosage of painkillers he's on I don't know!"

"They're as bad as each other." Cullen observed, recalling the less vocal, but equally obvious protectiveness that Booth exhibited around his partner.

Angela opened her mouth to agree, then thought better of it.

"He woke up briefly earlier and Bren reports that he was 'coherent', not sure what that means. They're not sure how long they'll need to keep him in for. His doctor stuck his head around the door earlier and is going to check him out again tomorrow. He did say he expected Booth to be on his feet within a week, even if he's going to be walking pretty gingerly."

Cullen allowed himself a small smile of relief at the news that Booth was expected to be up and about before too long. He thanked Angela, and extended his hand to shake.

"You might want to try to get her to leave and get some sleep. I'd really like your team to get back on the analysis of those eight bodies." He sighed, "It seems harsh I know, but tonight's events have just made it even more of a priority. We need some fresh leads."

Angela nodded her understanding.

Just as he was about to walk away he stopped and added, "You'll probably also have some of our internal investigation people around tomorrow trying to find out what went wrong."

Angela looked blank for a few seconds and then nodded, "Like internal affairs."

"Something like that." Cullen acknowledged before walking away.

* * *

Angela opened the door and closed it quietly behind her. She walked over to where Bones was sitting and knelt down next to the chair. 

"Sweetie, I think you ought to go home now and get some sleep." She whispered quietly.

Bones looked at her accusingly, "I can't leave him here Ange."

The mischievous part of Angela's brain filed the comment away for future teasing, but fortunately her rational side framed her reply, "Bren, he's gonna sleep for hours yet. He knows that you were here with him, but he's not going to expect you to sit here rather than get on with your job."

"Sleeping is not my job." Bones replied logically, trying to ignore the fog of exhaustion that seemed to be surrounding her brain.

"I know honey, but you need it or you won't be able to do your job." Angela answered.

Bones hesitated for a moment and then nodded, before looking at Booth's sleeping face and their intertwined hands.

"We'll see you outside in a minute." Angela said, once again dragging Hodgins out the door.

* * *

Bones stared at the peaceful, if slightly battered face of her partner for a moment, finding herself wishing that he'd open his eyes. Those expressive brown eyes often provided her with the emotional cues as to his feelings and she knew that she felt more comfortable responding to him rather than listening to what her own emotions were telling her. 

She closed her eyes for a moment, but when she opened them again there was no change in his slow, steady breathing.

She hesitated for a few seconds more, willing him to wake up.

His chest continued its gentle, rhythmic rise and fall.

She glowered momentarily recalling that Booth was supposed to be the intuitive one and that he should damn well know what she wanted him to do.

The lack of logic in that final thought brought her to her senses. Without thinking about it, she leant over and kissed him on his undamaged cheek. A feather-light contact that sent a strange tingle through her lips and brought a flush to her cheeks.

She disengaged her hand and laid his gently back on the bed.

She stared at him a moment longer and whispered, "Night Booth," before standing up and leaving the room.

The door had closed behind her before she had chance to see the slow smile that spread across Booth's face as his lips formed the words "Night Bones."


	8. Morning

**Disclaimer - **Bones and all its lovely characters belong to someone else.

**A/N - **Thanks once again for reading, and especially for reviewing. Particular thanks to _mendenbar_ for the advice on burns and their treatment - there may be a few discreet edits in previous chapters to reflect those comments, but nothing major.

* * *

Booth stirred restlessly in his sleep as the constant, grating pain from his injuries vied with the dulling blanket of the analgesic and tugged him towards consciousness. His face was very pale and a fine sheen of perspiration covered his forehead. Although he had slept, he hadn't really rested and there were dark circles under his eyes. 

Nurses had been checking up on him throughout the night; now the shift had changed. A new nurse, bright and just arrived at work, bustled about his room. She glanced at the dressing on his wounds, tweaked the bedding and replaced the IV. As she placed a beaker of water on the table over the bed, he tried to turn on his side. This put pressure on his abused flesh and his eyes flashed open as the background pain transformed into a quicksilver stab of agony.

His eyes scanned the room wildly for a disoriented moment as he tried to work out where he was. His gaze fell on the empty chair pulled up against the bed and paused there for a moment as comprehension washed across his features.

Alerted by his movement and muffled curse, the nurse walked to the end of the bed and picked up his chart before turning to face him, "Good morning, Agent Booth. How are you feeling today?"

Booth breathed out a snort and he closed his eyes before replying, "Peachy."

The nurse cleared her throat, her head tilted at a quizzical angle.

Booth opened one eye a crack to peer up at her, "Okay, not so great but I've been worse."

The nurse glanced at the chart, "Looking at this chart, that could well be true."

She winced slightly as Booth shifted uncomfortably on the narrow hospital bed.

"As you're awake, the doctor will probably be through shortly."

She was walking towards the door when Booth's voice caught her.

"Excuse me, do you know how the other agents who were brought in are?" The question was quiet, but laced with underlying tension.

She half-turned to face him, "I'm sorry, I don't know. You'll have to ask the doctor."

Booth inclined his head to show that he'd heard, before settling back in the pillow and closing his eyes. As he lay there, he began piecing together the events of the day before. He was surprised to find that it wasn't the fire, the chaos or his injuries that were most vivid in his memory; these all paled next to the recollection of the intensity of his partner's gaze and the way the pain seemed to lessen as she held his hand.

* * *

In the lab, Bones was swirling her straw in the dregs of her drink. She tapped the cup on the table for a few moments as she compared two images of a human skull looking for similarities in the injuries. Picking up her pen, she circled two points on each photograph and then picked them up to look at more closely. After half a minute she dropped them back on the table with a frustrated frown. 

She chewed the end of the straw before downing the remains of the drink, grimacing at the tart, unsweetened flavour of freshly pressed lemons, grapefruit and orange.

"Sweetie, are you actually enjoying that?" Angela's voice came from the doorway.

Bones smiled slightly and looked across at her friend, "Too early for caffeine."

"It's never to early for caffeine." Angela replied, bringing her hand out from behind her back and waving her coffee cup.

Bones' smile widened and she stretched her arms above her head before standing. She picked up the empty cup and dropped it in the trash. The sour drink had woken her up and she had a feeling that she was going to be drinking far too much caffeine before the working day was done.

She looked at her friend, "What have you got?"

"I've made some progress with the facial reconstruction of John Doe VII, but I need your advice." Angela sighed, "The ethmoid bone is basically gone, I'm not sure where to go with it..."

Bones nodded and gestured for Angela to lead the way. As she followed her friend out the door, she rubbed her temples tiredly. She had gone home, but had found sleep elusive while her mind looped around her fears for her partner. The piercing alarm at 6:30 had almost been a relief.

She glanced at her watch and wondered if she should call the hospital to check on Booth.

* * *

Deputy Director Cullen was sitting in Bones' chair chatting quietly. Booth was clearly exhausted and had been drifting in and out of the conversation, largely Cullen suspected, as a result of the medication but as the conversation turned to the case, Booth's attention became more focused. 

Booth's hand curled into a fist as his boss told him that another agent had died during the night. Booth heard the regret in Cullen's voice and recognised weary set to his shoulders. He doubted that the man had had any rest in the past 24 hours and he wasn't likely to have much opportunity any time soon. Five agents had been killed and two more had serious injuries, including the man that Booth had helped todrag out of the building. Booth and a handful of other agents had been hospitalised although none were critically injured. Booth knew that the investigation was now dangerously undermanned.

"Damn it! The sooner I'm out of here the better." Booth commented.

Cullen shook his head, "You won't be cleared for field work for weeks Booth."

Booth turned sharply in denial, but his protest was cut off as he jarred his broken collar bone.

Cullen simply raised an eyebrow.

"We need to keep up the pressure, we were so close. They're going to go to ground." Booth rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand.

"We've called in agents off other teams," Cullen cut off Booth's interruption, "I know they don't know the case Booth, but it's not like we have a choice. Your squints are already back on the case - they requested a load of soil samples from the warehouse site this morning at 8am!"

"That's my Bones." Booth smiled.

Cullen decided not to comment.

A thought suddenly occurred to Booth, "Who's lead agent now?"

Cullen paused for a beat then said, "I've put Mahoney in charge of the warehouse aspect of the case."

There was a heavy pause and Cullen guessed that Booth was wrestling with the urge to protest.

In the end he simply repeated _Mahoney? _in a tone of disbelieving contempt.

* * *

Bones and Angela were still hunched over the Angelator, making minute changes to the face displayed in 3D in front of them, when Dr Goodman cleared his throat loudly. The two women swung round to face their boss. He was standing next to a smartly-suited woman, with a clear, penetrating gaze. 

"Dr Brennan, Ms Montenegro, this is Agent Larsen. She needs to speak with you..." Goodman stopped speaking as he watched all the colour drain from the forensic anthropologist's face and heard her sharp intake of breath.

Angela too, looked at her friend in concern, "Bren?" She asked tentatively.

Bones said nothing. She simply stood rooted to the spot, terrified that the cool, efficient-looking agent had come to tell them that Booth had taken a turn for the worse.

Goodman hesitated for a few seconds and then carried on, "Agent Larsen is conducting the investigation into yesterday's events. She has asked that we explain our role in the operation."

His eyes darted between his two staff members. Dr Brennan, he noticed, looked relieved by his explanation; and Angela simply nodded slightly as though she had been expecting such a discussion.

He shrugged internally and ploughed on, "Well, I know that you will do all you can to help." He turned to the women at his side, "Agent Larsen?"

"Thank you Dr Goodman." She said dismissing him, "Dr Brennan, I would appreciate a few moments of your time."

Bones looked at Larsen impatiently, before catching Dr Goodman's warning frown, "Could you give me quarter of an hour to finish up here? You can wait in my office."

The two women locked gazes before Larsen broke the staring match and indicated her agreement with an irritated air.


	9. Connections

**Disclaimer -** Bones and all its lovely characters belong to someone else.

**A/N** - Thank you for reading this story and I'm particularly grateful to all of you that have taken time to review. Feedback, comments and reviews are always welcome. This chapter is a bit longer than the previous entries as it's time to reveal a bit more of the background.

* * *

Twenty minutes later Bones was marching up the stairs from Angela's room towards her office. The extent of the damage to the skull had made it impossible to arrive at a single reconstruction of the face. Instead she had helped Angela devise a series of possible matches. It wasn't ideal, but it would help to narrow down the field for identification. One of the complications of identifying the bodies in this case was that it wasn't even clear in some cases whether they were gang members who had met an untimely end or innocent victims. 

From the top of the stairs she could see Agent Larsen was sat on the couch in the corner of her office, tapping away at a laptop. Bones stopped for a moment to gather her thoughts, recalling Angela's warning that the agent was some sort of FBI internal affairs investigator. She wondered what sort of questions she would ask. Dismissing the thought she closed the distance to her office and offered a greeting as she walked in.

Agent Larsen didn't look up and continued typing for a moment. Then with deliberate care, she shut the lid of the laptop, glanced at her watch with a faint frown, before standing to offer her hand.

"Dr Brennan. Good of you to join me." Larsen said as they shook hands, before gesturing for Bones to take a seat.

Bones was taken aback by the other woman's appropriation of control of her office, "Glad to see you've made yourself at home, Agent Larsen. I'm sorry that I'm..." She paused to look at her watch, "Five minutes later than promised, but I can assure you that time was being put to good use on this case."

Agent Larsen gave a short nod of acceptance, but her slight smile didn't touch her eyes.

Rather than sit, Bones walked over to the water cooler and filled a jug, which she placed, along with two glasses, on the low table in front of the FBI agent. Then she sat down opposite Larsen.

"So how can I assist you Agent Larsen?" Bones inquired.

Larsen settled back into the couch and pulled out a digital recorder, "Any objection?" Her eyes sparked challengingly.

Bones shrugged, "If you require an aide memoir, don't let me stop you." She waved a hand slightly, "It's more important that you have an accurate record of our conversation."

A flash of annoyance showed briefly on Larsen's features as she jabbed the record button and placed it on the table.

"Dr Brennan, I'm investigating the circumstances that led to last night's disastrous operation. As I'm sure that you'll appreciate, any occasion where five agents are killed and a number of others are seriously injured we are required to investigate. That investigation takes on an added urgency where, as seems to be the case on this occasion, there is evidence that those deaths are the result of the criminals having some knowledge of our operation." She paused to glance at her notes, "You team seems to have been intimately associated with the operation although you are not in the employ of the FBI, so you are among the first people we need to speak with."

Bones knew that the agent's words were teetering along the brink between explanation and accusation, but she kept her tone neutral, "I can assure you that my whole team will be happy to assist you in any way that we can. As you say, we have been working as a key part of this investigation. From our point of view, you're not just looking into the circumstance surrounding the deaths of, and injuries to, FBI agents; you're trying to find out what has happened to people who we regard as colleagues and friends." Bones folded her arms, her expression serious.

"Indeed." Was the only acknowledgement that Larsen gave. She flicked to another page in her notes, "Perhaps you could explain how your team have contributed to this investigation."

"Of course," Bones paused as she ordered her thoughts, "It started the same way most of our cases do, when Booth - that's Special Agent Booth - brought in a body..."

* * *

_(Flashback)_

_"Hey Bones, we've got a case." _

_Bones straightened from the skeleton of a War of Independence soldier that she had been piecing together. She turned slowly, hands on hips, to look down at her partner who was struggling to find his swipe card, which gave him entrance to the autopsy area._

_He caught her gaze, brown eyes pleading, "Come on Bones, let me in."_

_She folded her arms, "Booth, I gave you a pass." She shrugged, "Let yourself in."_

_"That's cold Bones." He continued to pat down pockets, before pulling out his pass and giving her a victorious smile. _

_Bones rolled her eyes and turned back to the skeleton before he could see her smile. Behind her she heard the gate swing open and Booth take the stairs two at a time. She ignored him and picked up the incomplete tibia and examined it more closely, trying to identify the weapon that had caused the prominent scoring. After a few moments she put it down, becoming aware that Booth was leaning on the table._

_"Don't lean, Booth." She ordered._

_He took a step back, hands up in front of him._

_"Been dead for a while, right?" He commented._

_"Yes." She looked at across at him and couldn't help but respond to his cheeky smile. "What?"_

_"I've got something so much more interesting than this guy." He pointed at the skeleton on the table, "Patriot or not."_

_"Really." She said half turning away again, but not quite able to hide that her interest had been piqued, or that she was impressed that Booth had recognised the period of the skeleton from the few, tattered remnants of his uniform._

_Booth watched her closely, knowing that he had her when she pulled off her gloves and dropped them into the hazardous waste bin next to the table. He walked over to her and put his hand on the small of her back. __"Come on Bones, I'll tell you all about it in your office." _

* * *

(Back in the present) 

"That was the first body Booth brought in." Bones paused to take a sip of water, "It had been found in a shallow grave somewhere out near Lake Barcroft. It wouldn't have generated much interest normally, but the local law enforcement had been able to ID it. Turned out that he worked for the Bureau of Engraving and Printing and had been missing for months. Booth brought the body to my team to see if we could glean any further information about what had happened to him and where."

"And did you?" Agent Larsen asked.

Bones nodded, "But that came a bit later, when Booth brought into three unidentified bodies that had been found at the site of a drugs lab and we started making connections..."

* * *

_(Flashback)_

_"Dr Brennan?" Zach spoke diffidently, aware that she wasn't in the best of moods after Booth had turned up with three skeletons he needed identities for._

_Bones took a deep breath and looked away from her computer screen and towards her assistant, willing away her frustration with not being able to finish her paper on the War of Independence solider._

_"Zach?" She queried._

_"It's about those bodies Agent Booth brought in." He paused seeing her brows pull together into a frown, "Uh, I noticed something that looked familiar." He paused again, "I think."_

_Her frown deepened but with interest now rather than annoyance, "Familiar in what way?"_

_"The striation marks on two of the victims, well, they're the same as those from Paul Andreau." He paused, "The engraver."_

_Bones had pushed her chair away from her desk and was walking towards the door, "You think it's the same weapon?"_

_Zach nodded, "That's what it looks like to me..."_

_Two hours later Bones was convinced to. She headed to her office and picked up the phone._

_"Booth? It's Brennan, we've got something for you..."_

* * *

(Back in the present) 

"That's what brought the two investigations together: forgery and drug running." Bones paused for a moment, "Not that we knew that these big investigations were going on. Even Booth hadn't been told."

Larsen motioned for her to continue.

"We went back over our findings trying to find anything that tied the victims together. At the same time we were still trying to identify the three bodies. Someone had done a thorough job on them before burial - smashing out teeth, using acid to burn away flesh to get rid of finger prints and as much viable material for a DNA match as possible."

Larsen looked confused, "How can you ID them then?"

Bones fixed her with a very direct stare, "That, Agent Larsen, it why the FBI asks for our assistance. If they've got a finger-print, then the FBI lab is perfectly capable of dealing with the identification. We're who they call when they don't have that. Or where the circumstances have led to skeletal trauma which we are much better placed to analyse."

Larsen indicated her acceptance of the explanation and Bones noticed a grudging respect starting to show in the agent's eyes.

"We managed to identify two of the bodies. One was a known criminal, but she had been thought to have links with arms trading rather than drugs. Once we made that connection our collection of John Does increased again, as the FBI turned over four more bodies that had been keeping their secrets from them. One of them had been the victim of a drive-by shooting by known drug dealers. Two others were thought to be the victims of a falling out at an arms deal. The other was, and remains, a mystery."

Bones paused to yawn putting her hand over her mouth, "Please excuse me. It was a very late night." She rubbed her eyes with her right hand and then continued, "At this point we had a big break through..."

* * *

_(Flashback)_

_It was late. The Jeffersonian was largely silent. The school parties and visitors had headed home long ago. Administrators had shut off computers and locked office hours before. The cleaners had been and gone. Only a handful of lights still blazed, most of them in the central lab where Bones and her team worked._

_Special Agent Booth had breezed through security as usual and was on a mission to drag his favourite scientist and the rest of the squints away from their microscopes and out for a drink._ It's Friday night after all_, he thought before glancing at his watch,_ just.

_"Hey Bones. You planning on moving in here?" Booth asked as he walked into the lab._

_Bones glared at her partner, "Booth. It's your case, or is it cases, that we're working on."_

_Booth noticed the dark circles under her eyes and felt a stab of concern. He crossed the floor rapidly and came to a halt in front of her, taking the sheaf of papers out of her hand and putting them on the table._

_Her hands dropped to her side defeated. His concern mounted at her lack of protest and the way that their lack of progress with the case seemed to be weighing on her. He fought the urge to gather her in his arms and stroke her hair, murmuring words of comfort. He settled for placing a friendly hand on her arm._

_"Come on Bones. You need a break." He looked around the lab spotting Hodgins bent over a microscope and Zach snoozing at his workstation. "You all do."_

_To his surprise, she nodded and patted his hand on her arm sending a jolt through his body, before she pulled away to wake Zach. _

_Just as she was about to gently shake Zach's shoulder, Hodgins jumped up sending his chair wheeling away behind him._

_"Got it!" He exclaimed._

_"What?" Booth and Bones said simultaneously._

_"Tetrachloroethylene." Hodgins said with certainty._

_"Excuse me?" Booth said, crossing to Hodgins workstation._

_"Dry cleaning solvent." Bones explained as she joined him, peering at Hodgins' monitor._

_"Yup. Isolated unusually high deposits on six out of eight of our bodies. Whatever else they've been up to, they've all been near an industrial dry cleaner at some point just before they were killed." Hodgins announced triumphantly._

_Booth had gone stock still, "Didn't Andreau have a dry cleaning receipt amongst his personal effects?"_

_Bones nodded slowly._

_"Better find out where the man got his suits cleaned..."_

* * *

(Back in the present) 

"It didn't take long for the FBI to narrow down the search to the facilities belonging to Llantrisant Drycleaning. Hodgins pinpointed which of their six buildings in the DC area was likely to be their base of operations when he matched some pollen in the hair of two of the victims to a plant that only really grows out on that industrial estate - it's some sort of exotic escapee from a plant importer that used to be based there."

"How much did you know about the planned incursion into the warehouse?" Larsen prompted.

"Not much. Cullen was in charge of the operation. We were still trying to see if we could make any other connections and three of the bodies were still without an identity. Booth called in yesterday and asked me if I wanted to observe." Bones said.

"Why would he do that?" Larsen asked.

"I'm his partner." Bones answered shortly feeling a sudden tremor of distress that she still hadn't called to see how he was that morning.

"His partner?" Larsen's tone was neutral.

"Yes. I help Booth solve cases, but the deal is that I get to see some of the field work, not just get left in the lab and be _consulted_." Bones folded her arms and sat back.

"I see." Larsen commented. "Well, that's been very illuminating Dr Brennan." She started to pack her things. "Those are all the questions I have for now. I may need to speak to you again depending on what else I find out. I'll also take the time to speak too..." She consulted her notes, "Dr Hodgins, Ms Montenegro and Mr Addy."

Bones rose with her and offered her hand, "That's fine. Good luck with your investigation."

Larsen took the offered hand and this time the smile made it all the way to her eyes, "Same to you Dr Brennan. I imagine that you've got a lot of work to do on this case."

Bones nodded politely and showed the agent to the door.

She had only been at her desk for a few moments, and had not even had time to find the phone number for the hospital, when a flustered looking Zach knocked on the door.

"Dr Brennan." He began, "You've got a visitor..."

Bones looked up from her papers in time to see a tall, blonde-haired man push past Zach and stand arrogantly in her doorway.

"Dr Brennan?" He asked running a hand through his hair. Then without waiting for her to reply continued, "I'm Special Agent Mahoney. I'm taking over the case. You'll be working for me from now on."

The silence drew out and Special Agent Mahoney began to feel very uncomfortable under the forensic anthropologist's frigid glare.


	10. Phone

**Disclaimer - **Bones and all its lovely characters belong to someone else.

**A/N **- Thanks for reading and reviewing. Sorry again for the delay.

* * *

Special Agent Mahoney had developed a sudden fascination with the pots and other artefacts on the illuminated shelves behind Bones' head. The stark silhouettes were considerably more comfortable viewing than the arctic blue of the forensic anthropologist's eyes. 

The anthropologist who was, he noticed with an inward flinch, standing up.

Her arms were folded tightly across her chest and her fingers were digging in to her arms as she stalked around her desk to stand facing him. Mahoney found himself recalling all the times he'd faced criminals with guns - or knives - or heavy blunt instruments - and wondering how this small woman was setting off the same instinctive self-preservation reaction.

"Zach?" She said, her voice tight with suppressed fury.

"Yes Dr Brennan?" Zach edged into the room between the doorframe and the FBI agent.

"I would be grateful if you could escort..." She paused to flick a disdainful gaze at the agent, frowning slightly as she struggled for an appropriate description, "This... person... to Dr Goodman's office."

Mahoney opened his mouth to speak, but closed it silently again as she turned her baleful gaze towards him.

"I suggest that you explain yourself to Dr Goodman. I work _with_ Special Agent Booth." Bones took a step towards Mahoney, and he edged backwards towards the door. "My team is already busy examining the existing evidence in this case, as _requested_ by Deputy Director Cullen. I fail to see how your presence has any relevance whatsoever." Her tone was acid.

Zach listened wide-eyed and unmoving.

"Okay Zach?" She asked in a more normal tone of voice.

Zach roused himself and nodded quickly, "Yes, Dr Brennan."

Bones glanced at Mahoney and then meaningfully at the door before turning on her heel and marching back to her desk.

By the time she settled back in her seat, Zach was closing the door quietly behind himself and the shell-shocked agent.

* * *

Booth looked up at the clock. 

Again.

The minute hand seemed to be mocking him, ticking its way round with agonising slowness.

He felt exhausted, but sleep simply wasn't forthcoming. He'd tried lying still with his eyes shut, but had lasted for about five minutes before his eyes had jerked open. He knew that he was in no condition to be working, but he couldn't get the case out of his head. Half-formed thoughts of leads, of things that he should be following up haunted him as he tried to rest.

And every few minutes he'd wonder how Bones was getting on.

He sighed in frustration. There was so much to do, and he hated the idea of Bones working on _their_ case without him. He closed his eyes again as an expression of disgust settled across his features - he couldn't even bring himself to _think_ about her working with Mahoney.

It didn't help that Cullen had left a bulging file on the cabinet on the far side of the room when he had rushed out having been paged earlier. Not only was Booth anxious to know what had caused Cullen to go haring out of the room, but he really wanted to look through the file. He'd inched his way to the edge of the bed, sending shooting pains through his shoulder. It had taken five attempts to stretch for the file to convince him that he simply couldn't reach it. He'd thought about swinging out of the bed and walking over to collect it, but the steady, throbbing ache of his injuries and the complication of the IV line had dissuaded him so far.

So when his door opened a few moments later he gave the nurse, and the blessed distraction that she represented, the full benefit of his most charming smile.

It didn't seem to register with the nurse and Booth decided that he must look even worse than he'd suspected.

"Agent Booth," she said, "We just had a call for you - from your colleague - as you're awake would you like to speak to them?"

Booth nodded, wondering if Cullen had realised that he'd left his file behind.

The nurse walked over and helped him sit up in the bed, fussing with the pillows before pressing a few digits on the bedside phone and passing him the wireless handset.

"Booth." He stated, as the nurse checked the IV line on her way out.

There was a momentary pause and then a soft voice said, "Booth? It's Brennan."

Booth smiled at the handset, feeling the tight knot of tension in his chest loosen.

"Booth?" She asked, her voice was quieter again.

"I'm here Bones. Not like I can go anywhere." Realising how snippy that sounded he rushed on, "It's good to hear your voice...uh... to have someone to talk to. I'm going nuts in here."

"You should be resting." She admonished, fervently relieved that he couldn't see the way that she had blushed at his words. "How are you feeling?"

He closed his eyes with a half smile, "Everyone keeps asking me that. Nurses, Cullen, the doctors."

"It's because we're concerned about you..." She retorted, before correcting herself "...about your well-being."

Booth grinned slightly, "Bones, I'm okay. Nothing some rest won't fix, if the boredom doesn't send me over the edge."

"I imagine you can occupy yourself. What was that awful programme you watched last time you were in hospital?" She queried.

"It's finished its run Bones. Still bound to be something on tv. I just need to be able to reach the controller." He regretted the throwaway remark immediately, picking up on the sudden tension on the other end of the line. He hurried on, "How are you getting on with the case?"

Bones hesitated, but then took the bait, "Well, we're reanalysing all the bodies. Seeing what else we can find. After all, once we got the dry cleaning leads before we focused on that. Ange has managed to reconstruct something from John Doe VII, which was a real achievement." She paused, "Oh and I've had two visits from your FBI colleagues."

Booth's bristled at that, "Who?"

"An Agent Larsen, who's looking into what went wrong at the warehouse. She seemed to think we might have been in league with the gang. She asked lots of questions - she didn't seem to know much about what we do." Bones trailed off, "I didn't really speak to the other agent."

Booth recognised the brittle tone, "Uh Bones, what did you do to them?"

"I didn't do anything!" She exclaimed, "He was insufferably rude. Told me I was working for him! That he was incharge! I have more important things to do than deal with an arrogant idiot. I just told Zach to take him to Goodman. That's the last I expect to see of Agent Mahoney!"

Booth laughed quietly, wishing that he'd been there to see Mahoney finally get what he deserved, but his smile froze and his heart thudded painfully as he heard her next words.

"I told him that I already have a partner. I only work with you."

Booth was about to respond when he heard a distant knocking sound.

"Yes Hodgins?" Bones' voice was distant as she held the phone away from her.

He couldn't hear Jack's reply.

"Really? I'll be there now." Bones said, addressing Hodgins.

"Booth?" She said animatedly, "We may have something. I have to go..."

Booth squashed the disappointment he felt at his enforced exclusion and spoke encouragingly, "Go on - get squinting." He ignored her tut of annoyance, "But hey, don't forget - I get to arrest the bad guys."

He heard her smile. "See you soon Bones."

"Bye Booth." She replied, finding herself listening to the dial tone.


	11. Lab

**Disclaimer - **Bones and all its lovely characters belong to someone else.

**A/N **- thank you for reading and reviewing.

* * *

Bones followed Hodgins through the lab. A small smile played across her lips as she recalled her conversation with Booth. She'd never expected to be pleased to hear him referring to squinting, but his light, bantering manner had convinced her as nothing else could have, that he would soon be on the mend. 

Still, she had a job to do she reminded herself firmly. There wouldn't be any bad guys for Booth to arrest if she didn't start concentrating. She forced herself to listen to Hodgins' explanation as they headed down the stairs. Whatever his faults, she'd be the first to admit that Hodgins was deadly serious about his work and she knew that if he thought he'd found something, it was pretty certain that he had. Her mind drifted back to her earlier conversation with Agent Larsen. It had been Hodgins who had found the link to the dry cleaning that had given them their first big lead and he'd worn a very similar expression to the one he had now as he turned to face her, intense blue eyes boring into hers trying to convince her of his discovery.

She didn't like to admit it, but she tended to be deliberately cool when on the receiving end of one of his messianic explanations. She always told herself that it was her attempt to force him into a semblance of scientific objectivity, but deep down she knew that she did it because he liked to play up his role of a conspiracy theorist trying to convince an uncaring world.

Arriving at his workstation, they both peered at the screen.

"You see that spike there?" Hodgins asked as he pointed at the graph.

Bones nodded, reading off the label, "Lead 210?"

"It's present in tiny amounts in the soil found on three of the bodies, although it's not present in the soils we pulled the bodies from." Jack explained.

"So they were buried somewhere else first." Bones said slowly.

"Yup."

"Lead 210 is a radioactive isotope right?" Bones asked.

"Uh huh. It's a decay product of Radon 222." Hodgins paused, eyes darting around the lab dramatically, "It's naturally occurring, so no need for anyone to go all Homeland Security."

He wheeled his chair over to another keyboard and brought up a map of the US shaded yellow, orange and red on the screen.

Bones looked at him curiously.

"That's the EPA's map of radon vulnerable zones. It's not exact, but red means that a property is predicted to have an average indoor dose of greater that 4 pico curies per litre; orange means between 2-4 and yellow means less." He pushed a button and new map came up, this time with larger blocks of land in turquoise, yellow and pink. "That's a generalised map from the USGS."

"So we're assuming our bodies were originally buried somewhere in a red or pink zone?" Bones asked.

Hodgins nodded, then shrugged, "No guarantees though, the mapping's not exact, there'll be areas of granitic rock or other radon sources even in yellow zones and certainly in orange..."

"Then we need something else to narrow it down further." Bones stated.

Jack nodded.

"Well it's a start." She gave Hodgins one of her rare smiles of praise, "Good work."

Jack smiled back at her, "I'll keep looking." He said turning back to the samples on the bench.

She walked away, pondering his discovery. It didn't give them much to go on, but as she'd said to Hodgins it was a start.

She sighed and wandered into the small break room near the lab to grab a coffee. As she poured from the jug, she considered what her next move should be.

Settling the jug back on the hot plate abruptly, she picked up her mug and walked rapidly back into the lab, calling Zach as she went.

Within fifteen minutes she was stood over a light table, piles of x-rays stacked around her.

* * *

Back in the hospital Booth was channel surfing in an attempt to distract himself from fixating on the new lead that Hodgins had apparently found. 

He listened to five seconds of an advert with two super-toned people extolling the virtues of a very flimsy looking piece of exercise equipment before jabbing the button for the next channel shaking his head. He there weren't any short cuts to getting fit and he grimaced as he thought about the extra training he'd need to do get back the edge of his fitness after a week or two of enforced bed rest and who knew many how many more weeks of enforced inactivity.

He sunk back on the pillows deciding that he didn't want to think about it.

He turned the tv off and settled down in an attempt to snooze before his evening visitors arrived.

His eyes hadn't long closed when there was a loud knock on his door. He tried to sit upright, wincing in sudden pain, as the door opened and a harassed looking nurse ushered in a cool looking woman with blonde hair.

"Seeley..." She said, walking over to the bed.

"_Agent_ Larsen." Booth replied coldly, moving to fold his arms across his chest before having to close his eyes against the pain the simple action caused.

He opened his eyes again to find Larsen sat in the chair at his bedside.

"So formal, Seeley?" She inquired, her head tilted slightly.

"You're here on official business." He said shortly.

"What if I said it was personal too?" She replied.

"I'm not feeling that great, thanks for asking Susie. Beyond that I'm not interested." Booth fixed her with an indifferent stare.

"Well for someone who's not interested, you're pretty riled up!" She accused.

Booth turned to her angrily, "That has nothing to do with it. I'm not happy because you've spent the morning all but accusing my partner and her team of leaking details of the case." It was impossible to mistake the protective fury in his eyes, "If it wasn't for them we wouldn't have a damned case."

"I see." Larsen said coolly pulling out her notebook. "Interesting that Dr Brennan didn't mention this aspect."

"What aspect?" Booth ground out.

"Your relationship." Larsen replied.

"What relationship?" Booth replied sounding honestly confused.

"Oh come on, don't give me that. You only take that tone and get that look when you think someone is threatening someone who really matters to you."

Booth willed his tense body to relax, "She is my partner. We work together. Yes, I count her as a friend, but that's all there is to it."

Larsen was watching his face closely and she could spot the wistful regret in his eyes as he spoke the last part of his sentence. It was painfully obvious how he felt, she wondered why - and frankly how - the good doctor had managed to resist.

She shrugged internally, it didn't matter right now. If it turned out to be important she could return to the issue.

"Agent Booth, I was just doing my job. Dr Brennan's team were the only outsiders involved in the case." She raised a hand to forestall him, "I'm aware of the level of security clearance they have, but it's standard procedure. Perhaps we can discuss your involvement in the case..?"

Booth nodded sharply and then started to explain how he had gotten involved.

* * *

Six hours later, Bones was still sat surrounded by x-rays. She scrunched her eyes together tiredly, pulling another film from the folder and placing it in front of her. 

She had looked through the files three times now and still hadn't spotted _anything_.

She yawned and rubbed her stinging eyes before pulling out another film.

There was something odd about these bones, she was sure of it. She simply couldn't _see_ it.

"Sweetie?" Angela's voice called from the doorway, making her jump.

"Hey Angela." She replied, smiling tiredly at her friend.

"You nearly done?" Angela asked quietly walking over to join her.

Bones laughed slightly and rolled her eyes, "Hardly."

"You need to go home and get some rest." Angela said, putting a restraining hand on Bones' arm, "It's not that late yet, but you were up half the night. I doubt that you'll see anything if you look through these a fourth time."

Bones looked at Angela accusingly.

"Hey, I've just been walking past every now and then Bren."

Bones slumped her shoulders. "You're probably right." Then she shook her head impatiently, "I never used to have any problems doing a couple of all-nighters."

Angela grinned, "Age, sweetie, doesn't come alone."

Bones laughed genuinely, allowing Angela to haul her to her feet.

"Anyway, I though you might want to go see Booth." Angela said casually as they walked towards the door.

Bones felt a stab of guilt that she'd forgotten about her injured partner in her absorption in the x-rays. She stole a quick glance at her watch and was relieved to find that it wasn't that late.

"Plenty of time before visiting hours are over." Angela observed neutrally.

Bones looked up shyly, "I haven't left the lab before seven in a long time."

"Apparently all you need is sufficient incentive." Angela patted her arm. "Tell him we all say hi and hope he's feeling better."

"You're not coming?" Bones asked a little plaintively.

Angela shook her head, "You just go to him honey."

* * *

A stern looking agent was standing guard at the entrance to the ward in the hospital. 

Bones politely asked if she could go in to see Special Agent Booth, wondering if the agent was aware of how ridiculous he looked wearing sunglasses inside a hospital.

The agent looked at her closely and scrutinised her FBI pass before staring at the list of allowed visitors. After a long pause he waved her in.

Bones squashed her irritation, reminding herself that the FBI had every reason to be careful after losing five agents.

She remembered the way to Booth's room, walking rapidly along the quiet white corridors and past the guard in the waiting room.

Soon she was standing outside Booth's door, the blinds in the window facing the corridor were closed.

She tapped the door gently and heard Booth's voice saying come in.

She depressed the handle and walked in, stopping short in the doorway when she realised that Booth was not alone.


	12. Visitors

**Disclaimer -** Bones and all its lovely characters belong to someone else

**A/N** - Thanks for reading and reviewing. (Just to warn you that I'm a UK viewer so have not had the 'pleasure' of seeing Rebecca onscreen - this story is set post-series one, but doesn't reflect series two plotlines, so apologies if Rebecca is out of character for series two.)

* * *

Booth was watching the door expectantly as it swung open. He felt a rush a pleasure as he saw his partner framed in the doorway. 

For a moment he just drank in the sight of her, before slowly realising that she hadn't moved into the room and was looking uncomfortably at his other visitor.

"You coming in Bones or just decorating the threshold?" He said, deciding that teasing her was the best way to break the ice.

Bones turned her attention from the other visitor and stared at her partner. A moment after she encountered his brown eyes she was across the room and by his bedside, but the hand that was reaching out to touch his arm froze in mid-air as a pair of curious brown eyes looked up from a video game and stared at her silently from under a mop of tousled blonde hair.

"Hello Parker." She said quietly.

"Hello." The little boy continued to regard her seriously before breaking into a smile that was achingly familiar, "I remember you from Uncle Sid's at Christmas. Daddy says you help him catch the bad guys."

She nodded slowly, surprised that Booth had talked to his son about her.

"How're you gonna catch the bad guys if Daddy's in hospital?" Parker asked, putting his game down on the edge of the bed.

Bones closed her eyes for a moment, unprepared for the sting of tears that simple question caused.

She swallowed and forced a smile.

"Well, we're doing lots of tests at the lab, seeing what we can find out. Then, when your Dad's better, he can arrest the bad guys."

Her answer seemed to satisfy Parker, who nodded and picked up his game again.

Bones stood, lost in her own thoughts, until she felt something brush against her hand. She looked down to find Booth's right hand closing around hers.

Her gaze shot to his face and he smiled back at her, squeezing her hand gently.

Bones felt a swooping sensation in her chest as she looked into Booth's eyes. The moment was shattered as the door opened and a woman walked in, calling Parker's name.

"Time to go Parker, honey." The blonde woman said, kneeling down to pick up his bag ignoring Booth and Bones.

Bones gently disengaged her hand, feeling an almost physical wrench as she did so. She risked a quick glance at Booth, who was looking sadly at Parker.

After a moment, Booth gathered himself and addressed his ex-girlfriend.

"You're off now, Rebecca?" He queried, his voice studiously neutral.

"Yes." She didn't look at him, but she had finally noticed Bones and her eyes narrowed, assessing, "Who's this?"

Rebecca's tone was rude and Bones recognised the belligerent frown settling across Booth's features. Without stopping to think beyond her conviction that Booth was still too ill to get over-excited and that the last thing that Parker needed was to see was his parents arguing, she extended her hand. "I'm Dr Temperance Brennan. I work with Agent Booth. Just popped in to see how he was doing on my way home from work."

Rebecca eyed her suspiciously, but took her hand, "Rebecca. Parker's Mom."

Bones nodded politely and turned to Booth, "I'm going to pop out and grab a coffee. I'll be back in ten minutes."

She smiled at Parker, "Good to see you again Parker." He smiled back at her.

Finally she nodded to the other woman, "Nice to meet you, Rebecca." Then she walked out of the room giving Booth some privacy to say goodnight to his son.

* * *

Bones was lurking in the now familiar waiting room, sipping a vile tasting coffee. 

She glanced at her watch again deciding to leave it a little longer before going back to Booth's room.

She had seen Rebecca leave a few minutes before, but she wanted to give Booth a bit of time to himself before barging in again.

She glared at the plastic cup, knowing that she wasn't being entirely honest with herself and that a good part of the reason that she was still sitting in the anonymous waiting areas was that _she_ wasn't ready to face Booth yet.

She was trying to understand how, over the course of the last 24 hours, her feelings for her partner had undergone such a radical change and developed such a frightening intensity.

She leant back into the hard plastic of the chair, closing her eyes and wondered if anything had actually changed or if it was just that events had simply forced her to acknowledge feelings that had always been there.

Worrying about him last night at the warehouse, in the ambulance and then the interminable wait in this very chair had been awful - far worse than it would have been if she hadn't cared about him a lot more than a co-worker should - and she'd known that she had enjoyed the intimacy of holding his hand - the sense of _being there_ for him - but she hadn't put it all together. It had all come crashing in when she'd opened the door to his room this evening and he'd smiled his welcome and all she could think was how very much she cared about him. The realisation had been cemented when he'd taken her hand, telling her without words how much her presence meant and that it he was happy for his son to know about it.

She took a deep breath and sat forward, bowing her head. Then she ran a hand distractedly through her hair, before reaching out to put the half-empty cup on a table.

Standing up abruptly she walked back towards Booth's room.

* * *

Booth had settled back on his pillows. 

Parker had clambered up onto the edge of the bed to give him a goodbye hug. His son's enthusiastic grip had hurt like hell, but he'd just smiled and hugged back through the pain.

Booth had seen the flash impatience in Rebecca's eyes when Parker had made her promise that he could visit him again tomorrow. She'd had to say yes, but had done so saying that she was sure that his father would be able to arrange something.

Booth rubbed his eyes tiredly. He couldn't understand why Rebecca had to make everything such a battle. Sure, their break-up had been grim, but why could she never put their son first? That old pain was replaced with a new irritation as he remembered how she had reacted to Bones.

He shook his head angrily, then grinned unexpectedly. If he'd ever wondered how to the two women compared, he now had an answer. When Bones had reached out to shake Rebecca's hand he'd realised that his partner was acid etched on his heart; whereas Rebecca was little more than a hazy, regretful memory. Parker was their only bond now. Booth vowed to himself that he was going to make her realise that - she couldn't keep cradling old resentments forever.

And Bones? Booth's eyes drifted shut as he pictured her beautiful features, her fearsome intelligence and the gentle, often deeply hidden, compassion. He'd somehow been aware of her presence at the warehouse, in the ambulance and then at his bedside even when he'd been unconscious. Last night he'd wondered briefly if the inappropriate feelings that he'd suddenly acknowledged were an unexpected side-effect of the medication but when she'd leant across and kissed him as she'd bid him goodnight, the tingle on his cheek and the suddenly constriction of his breathing had forced him to accept how he felt about her.

His attention was drawn to a tentative knock at the door.

"Come in." He instructed.

He smiled widely as Bones poked her head around the door.

"Come on in Bones, the coast is clear." He gestured towards the chair by his bed.

She smiled at him and sat on the chair that Parker had been occupying when she had come in earlier. She set her bag down on the floor and then looked across at Booth.

Neither spoke but as they gazed at one and other, but their hands unconsciously reached out and linked together.

* * *


	13. Pain

**Disclaimer **- Bones and all its lovely characters belong to someone else.

**A/N **- Thanks very much for the encouraging reviews of the last chapter. Feedback is always appreciated.

* * *

The room was silent apart from the discreet rumble of the air conditioning and a persistent beeping noise coming from somewhere in the corridor outside. 

Booth was lying back on his pillows with his eyes closed and his chest was rising and falling regularly. The only sign that he was awake at all was the way that his thumb was stroking tiny circles on the back of his partner's hand. The movement was minute and his conscious mind wasn't registering the action at all but, after his earlier revelation about his feelings for her, the contact with her silky smooth skin was filling him with a sense of warm contentment.

Bones was staring at their hands. She was unnerved by the flutter in her stomach that his gesture was causing; and by her own desire to stroke his forehead and push his hair back into some semblance of its normal order. She was still reeling from the sudden realisation of her feelings for Booth and his intimate touch was making concentration on anything else impossible.

Neither of them spoke, not daring to give voice to their feelings, but knowing that any other topic, and the inevitable questions about the case, would fracture the mood.

Five wordless minutes later, a nurse bustled in to check on Booth.

She smiled at Bones, her expression softening at the sight of their joined hands.

Bones found herself blushing idiotically and fighting the urge to tell the woman that she had it all wrong, that she and Booth were work colleagues and she was just being comforting by holding his hand.

Booth sat up slightly and tried to look alert and offered a tired greeting.

The nurse checked his bandages and his temperature, before picking up his chart and noting a quick entry. As she scanned the details, she frowned.

"Agent Booth, are you sure about requesting a lower level of pain-killers? You really must be in considerable discomfort, they will help." She folded her arms as she challenged him.

Booth was shaking his head, "I'm fine, thanks." The nurse was looking sceptical and he could sense that Bones had gone rigid, "Really. If it gets bad I'll say something."

The nurse held his gaze for a moment longer and then nodded. She finished up by refilling a water beaker and twitching a dangling cover back onto the bed.

As the door closed behind the nurse, Booth braced himself for the inevitable onslaught.

"Are you trying to pass some sort of macho test?" Bones asked, her sarcasm not masking the real concern underlying the question.

He turned his face away, not answering the question.

That was more than Bones could bear and she reached out to brush his cheek, "How much does it hurt?"

Booth's eyes closed at her touch and he let out a ragged sigh, "Honestly?"

She nodded and even though he wasn't looking at her he seemed to sense the nod.

"It's pretty bad, but I've been a lot worse." He paused and bit the inside of his lip before rolling his head back to stare into her brimming eyes, "Which is also why I won't take any more of that stuff than I absolutely have to."

Bones recognised the soul deep weariness in his eyes - it was a glimpse of a part of Booth that he almost always kept hidden and which he had shared once before in the graveyard during the Kent case.

Instinctively her fingers traced the line of his jaw, scratched lightly by his dark stubble, deciding that even if she couldn't find the words to offer him comfort, he couldn't mistake the intention of her gentle touch. She watched the tense muscles in his neck slowly relax under her fingers and when he offered the hint of a smile, she withdrew her hand and laid it on top of the hand that was already cradling her own.

They shared another long look before Bones had to glance away with a blush.

Booth smiled at her embarrassment and then asked in his normal tone, "So what did Hodgins find today then?"

Bones grasped the change of topic and shrugged, "Nothing conclusive. Three of the bodies were buried somewhere else first. Somewhere with a high concentration of radon. He found traces of a radon decay product in the soils. We checked out the USGS maps, but it still gives us a huge amount of land to cover. So we're looking for something to narrow down the search."

"Any luck?" Booth asked and then had to stifle at smile at her grimace of absolute frustration.

"No! I've been staring at x-rays all day trying to spot something, anything in the bones that could give us a clue." She took a breath, "Something tells me there's something there, but I'm just not seeing it. The bodies were all subject to extensive skeletal trauma, so it's difficult to draw conclusions."

"You'll find it." Booth stated with total assurance.

Bones tilted her head on one side and raised an eyebrow.

"Don't look at me like that Bones, I'm serious. You _always_ find the evidence, you've just got to keep looking."

She was unprepared for the rush of feelings at his praise and the total belief in her evident in his tone, so she tried to be flippant, "Should I head back to the lab now then?"

Booth's hand tightened painfully around hers for a moment in reply.

Her eyes darted to their hands and then fixed on his dark eyes, before adding "Or not?"

"Definitely not." Booth said with a smile before deciding another change of subject was in order, "You didn't have to go rushing off earlier. Parker was glad to see you again."

Bones shook her head slightly, "I wouldn't have barged in if I'd realised that Parker was here." She frowned slightly, "Why would Parker be pleased to see me? We've only met once and that was when eggnog in combination with my idiotic staff managed to lock us in the lab."

"He remembers." Booth said, deciding that it probably wasn't the time to tell her that when Parker demanded to hear all about his Dad's latest crime-solving adventures, he got to hear all about his Dad's super-smart partner.

"It's just lucky that this place," He indicated the hospital room with his head, "Is right next to Rebecca's yoga class. My potential as convenient childcare managed to outweigh her usual attempts to freeze me out."

She wasn't sure what to say in response, "Is Parker coming to see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah - if I organise it!" Booth's sigh was explosive.

"I could bring Parker over." Bones froze as the words were out of her mouth, "Or, uh, ask Sid to..." She trailed off.

Booth's answering smile almost made her heart stop.

"Thank you." He whispered.

* * *

Three quarters of an hour later, Booth was asleep. 

Bones watched him for a few moments, relieved to see some of the tension relax out of his face, but worried by the way that fatigue and pain seemed to leave deeply etched lines around his eyes.

She slowly extricated her hand from his grip and stood up. She hesitated for a moment before leaning over to kiss his cheek.

Booth chose that moment to stir slightly in his sleep and his head shifted, so instead of a chaste kiss on his cheek, she found her lips in contact with his.

A split second after realising what had happened she stood up with a start, her lips on fire.

Gripping the back of the chair, she peered at Booth worriedly, but he seemed to be fast asleep.

She shook her head slightly, trying to dismiss her speculation about what a real kiss would feel like given the effect of such a fleeting contact. She pushed her hair back distractedly and then straightened her shoulders bringing her distracted emotions back in check.

After a moment, she glanced back at Booth and patted his hand gently, whispering good night before heading out.


	14. Dawn

**claimer -** Bones and all its lovely characters belong to someone else.

**A/N -** Thanks to everyone who has kept reading this story and especially those of you who've reviewed (and consistently reviewed in many cases, which is really kind of you.) Particular thanks to Mendenbar for the assist with how doped up (or not) I could get away with making Booth in the previous chapter (and why.)

We're catching up with everyone in this chapter, before more case stuff in the next one, so not much BB on here (but more on the way!)

* * *

Bones was the first one to arrive at the lab the following morning. The night-shift was still staffing the security desk and the guard smiled and waved her through after checking her pass perfunctorily.

She headed straight for the small kitchen to switch on the coffee maker, drinking a pint of water while she waited for the pot to heat up. Tapping her fingers on the counter, she looked around the room before her gaze fixed on the notices pinned up on the board. There was a list of seminars on a range of esoteric topics; a series of boring health and safety reminders with wincingly bad cartoon illustrations; a couple of ads for items for sale and a poster declaring that someone had somehow managed to lose their deep sea diving helmet in the lab.

Bones shook her head, wondering why on earth they had brought it into the building in the first place, before concluding that it had probably been packed up and deposited in one of the vaults below the museum or in the numerous warehouses that housed the bulk of the Jeffersonian's collection.

She grimaced slightly as she imagined the helmet-less diver having to search through the hundreds of boxes that would have been added to the inventory, moved, replaced, checked or stored over the last few weeks.

Finally her attention was caught by the details of the Jeffersonian family day. She found herself reaching up to tear off one of the little slips with details of who to call for tickets, thinking that Booth and Parker would probably enjoy a behind the scenes tour of the museum. She put the scrap of paper in her pocket and began to pour herself a coffee without thinking about what her action implied.

As it slowly dawned on her that she had actually thought about the word family in the same context as her partner and his son, her grip on the coffee jug tightened reflexively.

She would have liked to have told herself that she didn't know what that meant, but after the events of the past day or so denial would have been an exercise in futility.

She placed the coffee jug back on the hotplate and pulled the offending piece of paper out again. She stared at it, chewing her lower lip. At 5:30 in the morning, and before ingesting toxic quantities of caffeine, she was incapable of arguing herself out of her initial, instinctive action. She couldn't deny that Booth and Parker would enjoy the tour and it went without saying that they would deserve a little treat together after all the trauma of the last few days; and it wasn't as if she had anyone else to bring as Russ was travelling several states away.

Defeated by her own logic, she scrunched up the paper and shoved it back into her jacket pocket. Then she grabbed her coffee and stalked across the lab towards her office.

* * *

Across town an exhausted looking Deputy Director Cullen was walking into the Hoover Building. One look at his tight-lipped and furious face and the guard made sure to run through the security protocols as rapidly as humanly possible.

Cullen grunted his thanks and stomped across the lobby to the lift. He had got precisely four and half hours sleep, after finally being ordered home for some rest by his superior. Cullen wasn't sure if his boss would have followed through with his threat to have him frog-marched from the building, but had decided that he didn't want to find out and, truth be told, he'd known that he had to snatch something approximating a good night's rest or he'd be next to useless.

The lift pinged open and he got in, leaning against the rail.

As the lift climbed the floors he decided that reviewing messages, making calls and then being interviewed were likely to take up most of the morning. Although his first task - once he was fortified with coffee - would be to call the hospital.

At this time of day, he was reduced to sampling the dubious delights of coffee machine with its hateful plastic cups. He swallowed the dark liquid, already counting down the hours until the canteen opened with its real espresso machine.

He made his way to his office, flicking on the lights, and sighed as he saw that there were post-it notes dotted all over the place and several pages of hand written notes. That's what came of being out of his office since yesterday lunch time.

He slumped onto the chair and started to work his way down the list, frowning when he saw a reference to the Jeffersonian and Dr Goodman. He rubbed his eyes tiredly - an inter-institutional bun-fight with the lab was the last thing he needed right now. He took a swing of coffee and read the details, shaking his head slowly.

When he'd finished, he paused for a moment and then began to smile reluctantly. Yes, he could still do without the hassle, but when his 'to do list' included writing five letters of condolence to families of agents who'd been killed on his watch, a hissy fit from the Jeffersonian's forensic anthropologist was deal-able. Besides, reading behind the lines of Dr Goodman's terse message, Dr Brennan and her team were still hard at work on the case and the problem was actually with the personnel he'd sent her way. Not that he'd told Mahoney to go anywhere near her.

He sighed, he should have realised that there was something fishy about the way Mahoney had been buzzing efficiently around the warehouse yesterday afternoon. He'd put it down to productiveness brought on by new responsibility, but it seemed it was more to do with face-saving after being chewed out by the formidable Dr Brennan.

He picked up the phone and dialled the hospital. Hoping, for more than one reason, that Booth was going to be well enough to be back at work sooner rather than later.

* * *

Booth shifted slightly and focused on the glowing hands of the beside clock: 5:30.

He sighed, every hour or so since 2:20am he'd been waking up, and each time it was more difficult to drop off again. The pain across his shoulder was lifting above an annoying background level, towards something he wasn't sure that he could deal with.

He looked at the IV line for a moment, considering.

Then took a sharp intake of breath and turned deliberately away.

He wasn't going there. Not this time. Not ever again.

He closed his eyes against the memories and tried to think good thoughts.

Uninvited his partner popped into his head and he smiled as he thought about how beautiful she'd looked yesterday, despite the dark circles under her eyes. He laughed to himself as he wondered how he'd managed to fall asleep when she was there, but was wracked with insomnia when wasn't she sitting at his bedside holding his hand.

He silent laughter halted and his breathing hitched slightly as he considered that comparison a bit more deeply.

* * *

Angela pulled a pillow over her head as the alarm rang insistently.

She sighed, it was no good she could still hear the damned thing and the only way she could turn it off was to get out of bed and walk across the room.

She knew herself to well.

"Alright! I'm getting up!" She yelled at the inanimate object as she threw the covers back and switched on the lights as she stumbled across to the shelf.

Slapping the button down, she enjoyed the silence for a moment, and then stared longingly at her bed.

She glowered for a moment and then, muttering 'must go to work, must go to work,' she stomped towards the shower.

* * *

Jack stood at the edge of the pool towelling off the beads of moisture clinging to his skin, before rubbing the towel over his hair.

He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

He'd learnt long ago that if he had to get up at this unearthly hour, the best way to wake himself up was some brief, brisk exercise. So he'd set the alarm a few minutes early and twenty lengths later he was wide-awake.

The looked down at the rippling water, reflecting that there were some compensations for his family's status.

* * *

Zach was reading. He usually woke up at five. For some reason he'd never needed more than five hours sleep.

He thought that might have been one of the reasons he did well at school. He really did have more hours in the day than most people.

He looked across at the clock, knowing that his landlord - and lift to work - would be hammering on his door in precisely ten minutes.

Dr Hodgins might profess belief in anarchy occasionally, but Zach knew that you could set your clock by his personal habits.

* * *

Agent Larsen was reviewing her notes as the train rattled in from her distant suburb towards the centre of the city.

She scrolled through the transcript of her interview with Dr Brennan and then each of her team.

Nothing.

Then she scanned through Booth's commentary.

Their stories were consistent, but in an inconsistent, non-coached, totally genuine sort of way.

Larsen was convinced that they weren't the source of the leaks, so that meant someone else inside the FBI probably was.

She sighed. Now she got to live up to her reputation as a ball-breaker by winnowing her way through the depleted ranks of agents who'd worked on the various cases.

She glanced at the list - she'd start with Deputy Director Cullen.

* * *

Special Agent Mahoney had meant to hit the snooze button, but his hand slipped and without realising it he turned his alarm off entirely.

Diving deeper under the covers, he soon fell fast asleep again.

He wouldn't wake up until his colleague, Special Agent Decker, started hammering on his door two hours later.

* * *

In a non-descript warehouse a goodly distance away from all the activity in Washington DC, a man and woman were looking into a crate of bank notes.

Behind them, someone was watching a computer screen intently, listening to a set of headphones.

They all looked up when tall, thin man strode in and gestured for them to load up the truck. As the man stepped out from the shadows, it was possible to see that his left arm was heavily bandaged. He moved slowly and it was obvious that he'd taken a serious injury recently.

As he hauled himself slowly and painfully into the passenger seat of the truck, the others seemed to know not to offer any help.

He settled back into the seat with a grunt and muttered a guttural curse at the FBI for their interference and for having the teremity to clip him with a loose shot during the gunfight.

* * *


	15. Coal

**Disclaimer **- Bones and all its lovely characters belong to someone else.

**A/N - **Thanks for reading and reviewing. This is a very case focused chapter and it's also a very talky chapter (not my favourite sort) as there's lots of explanation.

I also need to let you know that this story probably won't get updated now until the beginning of October. I'm really sorry for the hiatus, but I'm away on holiday for two weeks and a half weeks and won't be anywhere near a computer until I get back. I will try my best to squeeze in one more chapter tonight, but I want to update my other story too... all depends on how fast I can type... (and any encouragement I get in response to this chapter to stay up late and keep typing...)

* * *

Bones had been sitting in her office staring at x-rays for three quarters of an hour, when she heard the sound of activity in the main part of the lab. Grasping the distraction, she made her way over to the glass wall of her office and peered down to see Hodgins and Zach settling in at their workstations. 

Glancing at the clock, she realised that she wasn't the only one putting in the hours on this case. As she watched, Hodgins spun round in his seat to pull something out of a draw and spotted her.

He waved. She smiled tiredly and waved back, before heading down to the stairs.

"You went home last night, right?" Hodgins asked as she reached the bottom.

Bones smiled, "Yes. Angela hustled me out of the lab just before seven."

"Wow - that's gotta be a first..." Hodgins broke off and then grinned, "So how was Agent Booth last night?"

Bones was horrified to realise that she was blushing as she replied, "In pain. Being stubborn. Worrying about the case." She sighed, "He looked exhausted."

"In short, same old Booth." Hodgins summarised.

Bones nodded slightly, "Pretty much."

The conversation moved onto where their work would be focused during the day. Jack still had more tests to run on his soil samples, trying to narrow the search for where the bodies had originally been buried and Zach was assisting Angela in developing a model of how the injuries had been inflicted on one of the bodies. After pausing to offer Zach some advice on what sort of weapon might have caused the impact pattern that he and Angela were working on, Temperance returned to her office and the sea of x-rays.

In the meantime, Hodgins had headed off to make coffee. He silently deposited a mug next to Zach, who had thanked him absently.

Hodgins knew exactly when Angela arrived in her office because of the muffled shout of 'Jack - I love you' from down the hall; and he couldn't fight off the smile that appeared on his lips at those words, even if it was just Angela's inner caffeine addict talking.

* * *

The office was silent and Bones was glancing at one x-ray then another, her eyes narrowing. 

Without looking away, she reached for the magnifier and peered more closely.

She stared at the two images for a long time. Then she sat up, her blue eyes thoughtful.

She reached over and picked up the phone and requested that the remains of John Doe VII be brought up to autopsy.

* * *

She was pacing along the platform when the porters brought the remains up under Zach's watchful supervision. They carefully laid them out on the table and, at the forensic anthropologist's brief nod of thanks, they edged away. 

The remains were almost complete, but almost every bone had been fractured at least once and several had been broken multiple times. Laid out on the table, it looked like an eerie, elongated jigsaw puzzle.

"Dr Brennan?" Zach asked tentatively as she picked up the lower portion of the right radius and stared hard at the carpal articular surface and then at every other part of the bone fragment.

Temperance gave no sign of having heard Zach as she moved onto examining the upper part of the radial bone. Having made a through inspection of every surface, she turned to the right ulna and subjected that to the same painstaking scrutiny.

After about ten minutes, she paused and stood up.

She looked over at Zach and handed him the lower portion of the fractured radius, "What do you see?"

Zach turned the bone over in his hands trying to spot what had caught his mentor's attention.

"Zach?" Bones prompted.

"Fracture damage..." He peered more closely at the portion of the bone that seemed to have particularly caught her attention, "Some surface scoring..." He looked across at her, "It's worse here, but is consistent across the bone."

"The ulna shows similar damage." Bones confirmed, "It's very faint, almost imperceptible."

She reached down and picked up the various carpal bones, studying the surfaces where the ligaments would have attached the various bones to one and other previously.

"Look." She pointed at a portion of the bone, "The wear here suggests reduced articulation."

"RSI?" Zach ventured, not sounding convinced.

"No, repetition was part of the problem here, but with much higher impact activities. It's the damage to the rest of the bone that gives it away."

Zach recognised the small smile playing across his boss' lips as the one she got when she had figured something out, so he waited expectantly.

"Hand-Arm Vibration Syndrome?" She offered and then saw that Zach was still looking baffled, "Vibration White Finger. It's caused by repeated exposure to certain types of heavy machinery: drills, jackhammers... It mainly affects the soft tissue and nerve endings, but in very serious cases." She waved the scaphoid bone that she was holding to emphasise her point, "Like this one - it can actually scar the bone."

"So our victim was a miner or a road worker?" Zach suggested.

Bones inclined her head in half acceptance of Zach's idea and then walked across the platform in the direction of her entomologist's work station, "Hodgins!"

Jack swivelled round in his chair and cocked his head on one side and raised an eyebrow, "You called?"

Bones smiled a quick a apology and then hurried on, "John Doe VII, that was one of the bodies where the FBI ran an autopsy on before sending us the bones, right?"

Hodgins nodded, "Yeah. They'd had him for about a month before they shipped the remains over here." He paused, "Do you want the results?"

Bones nodded, "Did they send over samples?"

Hodgins shrugged, "I can check. What are we looking for?"

"Lung tissue. It may enable us to narrow down the former occupation of our victim."

"Okay, I'm on it." After checking the inventory on his computer, Hodgins headed out of the lab.

* * *

Half an hour later, Bones was hovering anxiously over Jack's shoulder as he ran the tests. The rest of the team were also watching: Angela perched on a desk a few feet away and Zach was on the spare seat next to her. No-one commented on the obviously missing part of the scene - a restless FBI agent pacing backwards and forwards flipping a coin - but each of the felt his absence from the team anew. 

Hodgins re-set the machine and ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his scalp dispiritedly, "The sample is really small..." He turned to look at Bones apologetically, "And it's not in great shape."

Bones shrugged, "That may not just be due to decomposition."

Hodgins frowned and turned back to his screen, mentally flicking through a list of possible lung diseases as he guided the computer through the analysis.

Ten minutes later the analysis was complete.

"Very high levels of coal dust found." Hodgins stated, before examining the sample under his powerful microscope.

Bones nodded slowly, her expression showing that this wasn't a surprise to her.

"And you were right," Hodgins continued as he peered through the microscope at the sample, "The darker patches weren't the result of decay. Much of the damage was already present - this lung was already severely impaired."

He moved aside and gestured for Temperance to look.

"They're called coal macules." Bones commented as she stared at the tissue through the microscope, "They form when constant inhalation of coal dust overwhelms the lung and the coal begins to be deposited in the alveoli. Clumps form. Lung function gradually deteriorates. "

"Pneumoconiosis." Hodgins stated.

"Right." Bones confirmed, "And that means that our victim was a coal miner."

"The level of damage exhibited here," Hodgins gestured at the microscope, "Means that he would have been quite debilitated by his condition."

Bones nodded, "There have been several successful class actions by miners' groups over the last twenty years." She looked around, "If we could cross-reference those who received payments against missing persons..."

"We could get a match." Hodgins finished for her.

The whole team looked at one and other.

Angela sighed and walked over to put her arm around Bones before adding, "And that - normally - would be Booth's cue to do his FBI thing."

Bones closed her eyes and slumped onto a chair, "I'll call Cullen."

* * *

Back in her office, Bones drummed her fingers on the desk while she was put on hold for the third time. Her fingers halted as an apologetic voice came on the line. 

"I'm very sorry Dr Brennan, but the Deputy Director is not available."

Bones took a deep breath and tried to be diplomatic, "It's really very important. It's regarding a case."

"I'm sure it is ma'am," The voice said politely, "but Agent Larsen has left strict instructions that they are not to be interrupted. Is there someone else who can help you?"

Bones racked her brains for other agents she'd dealt with and her throat almost sealed up as she forced the words passed her lips, "Agent Mahoney?"

There was another pause as she was put on hold again, before the apologetic voice was back again, "I'm sorry, Agent Mahoney has not arrived in the office yet today."

Bones suppressed her infuriation that not only was he an idiot, he also couldn't be bothered to get to work before 8:00am during the current crisis, "Fine. I'll call again later."

She got some satisfaction from slamming the receiver back onto the phone and sat back with an explosive sigh.

She glanced around the room and her eyes came to rest of the photo of her, Booth and the rest of the team, cut out from the Jeffersonian's staff bulletin, which was pinned to the side of her monitor.

Slowly, she reached for the phone and dialled the hospital.

* * *

Booth blinked groggily as the nurse pulled back the curtains and called his name softly. 

His reply came out something like 'mmnhf.'

He was never at his best when he woke up and a fractured night's sleep and pain medication we're helping him be articulate.

He reached for the beaker of water and after taking a long drink, forced himself to focus.

"Good morning, uh, was there something..?" He trailed off. He thought that the nurse had just asked him something, but wasn't sure if that was just an after-image of the vivid and frankly bizarre dream that he was hoping he would soon forget.

The nurse turned to him and smiled in apology, "Good morning. I'm so sorry to disturb you Agent Booth, but there's a woman on the telephone for you. She was very insistent that she spoke with you. I agreed to check if you were awake..."

Booth stared at her dumbly for a moment and then nodded, "Phone call. Okay."

The nurse looked at him narrowly, "Are you sure you wish to speak to her?"

Booth nodded vigorously and then stopped as he suddenly became aware of the pain in the left side of his body.

"I can have them call back..."

"It's fine." Booth confirmed.

The nurse handed him the phone and backed out.

Booth clicked the button and expected to hear Rebecca's long list of excuses as to why it would be impossible for Parker to see him that evening.

"Booth?" An unusually tentative voice greeted him.

"Bones?"

"I'm so sorry to disturb you. I know you must be exhausted. I'm sorry."

Booth looked at the phone as if it had grown legs, "Bones?" He repeated.

"Are you okay? I mean not worse, because of course you're not okay. I didn't know who else to call - I'm sorry. Cullen was busy and that idiot Mahoney wasn't even at work yet..."

"Bones!" He said with a bit more force, beginning to be concerned by her rambling apology cum explanation.

"Booth, you are okay, aren't you? I just need..."

"Temperance!" He said firmly, "Hold up. What's the matter? Are you okay?"

There was a stunned pause on the other end.

"I'm fine. You're the one who's ill. Are you okay? I didn't wake you did I?"

Booth closed his eyes unsure whether to be relieved or frustrated.

He took a deep breath, "I'm fine, really. I was wide awake." He paused, "What's the problem?"

"It's about the case." Bones said, astonished at how awful she felt bothering Booth about work and how much she would rather just chat to him.

"Okay - what's up?" Booth felt a little pang that she was calling about work, but couldn't suppress the surge of excitement that he could apparently still be useful even while trapped in the hospital.

Bones outlined their findings on John Doe VII. "...We just need to run a cross check on the data bases and see if we have any possibles. We can use Angela's range of reconstructions to narrow the field if necessary." She bit her lip before adding, "When we got to the end of the analysis, we were all standing around looking for you..."

Booth could help the grin that lit up his face at her words, "So I have my uses." He teased.

He heard Bones huff and then sigh, "I miss... uh... we all miss you Booth."

He hadn't thought that his smile could get any wider, but the admission that Bones missed him, he was grinning from ear to ear. "Leave it with me Bones. I'll call you back in ten."

Bones was left blushing and listening to the dial tone.

* * *

Booth sat back on the pillows for a moment, wondering who he could ask to help out. He had plenty of friends at the Bureau, but there weren't that many that he would trust with Bones and her team, especially after the Kenton incident. 

He sorted through agents in his head: Peterson - _too much of a flirt_; Andrews - _too anti-science, Bones'd have her for breakfast_; Jones -_ Mr-one-night-stand, not a chance_; Howells -_ ha! yeah right_; Acton - _womaniser, no way_; Phillips - _over my head body_; O'Malley - _mmhf, maybe_; Rogers - _only if desperate_; Decker..._actually a good guy and knows the case._

He pondered his conclusion for a moment and then nodded to himself. He slowly typed the digits into the phone and waited for the other agent to pick up.

"Andy?"

"Booth, that you? I thought you were in hospital." The other agent queried.

"Yeah, well. Down but not, apparently, out."

"What can I do for you?" Decker's short laugh came across the line, "You know Cullen'll kill me if I help you work on the case when you're sick."

"He's stuck with Larsen all morning. He need never know." Booth replied.

"How'd you know..." Decker trailed off, "Never mind, what'd ya need?"

"Bones and the squints, uh, Dr Brennan and her team, may have a way to ID the only original vic we haven't been able to trace." Booth smirked at the long, hollow silence at the other end.

"And..." Decker prompted finally.

"And I need you to go over there and use what they've got to run a few databases." Booth continued.

"Uh... Why me?" Decker asked a little plaintively.

"Think of it as a mark of my faith in you Andy." Booth said.

"Uh huh - and live up to it or else, yeah?"

"Something like that, bud. 'Sides Bones'll put you straight long before I have chance to." Booth didn't disguise his amusement.

"You do know that 'moaning Mahoney' is the lead agent on the warehouse deal?" Decker pressed.

"Yup, but you and I both know that Bones has already handed him his balls in a bag, and this isn't necessarily linked to that part of the case. You're the overall liaison aren't you? Go liase."

"You owe me for this one, Seeley." Decker admonished.

"Hey, this is my partner we're talking about here!"

"Yeah, yeah... Will she be expecting me?"

"Uh huh - once you stop whining and get off the line, I'll let her know."

"Terrific. I'll head right on over. We've got nothing else to go on right now." Decker paused and sounded a lot more serious, "How _are_ you holding up Booth?"

"I'm doing okay." Booth paused to shift uncomfortably on the bed, "Now go see my partner!"

* * *

Bones snatched up the phone at the first ring, "Booth?" 

"Yeah, it's me. Special Agent Andy Decker's on his way over. He's a good guy. He'll get you the information you need." Booth stopped, suddenly feeling as if he'd talked his way out of his own job.

"Thank you. I'll let you know what we find out... unless you'd rather I didn't disturb..."

Booth broke in gently, "Please, let me know."

Bones heard the quiet desperation in his voice and felt her heart sink. She forced her voice to brighten, "I'll see you this evening."

"Looking forward to it." Booth said honestly.

Bones blushed and cleared her throat, "Uh... me too..." She rushed out her goodbye and put the phone down hurriedly.

* * *

**A/N **- Just a quick medical note. Vibration White Finger is a real and debilitating medical condition, which does indeed affect workers who operate heavy machine. I've taken a fair a bit of artistic licence in its portrayal here as it's not conclusively proven that it causes discernable bone damage (as opposed to damage to soft tissue.) 


	16. Realisation

**Disclaimer **- Bones and all its lovely characters belong to someone else.

**A/N -** Well, I'm back (finally) and this poor, neglected story is going to get a much needed update. Not much plot development, but lets just say that events are starting to catch up with Booth and Bones.

For anyone reading for the first time, hope you like it and just to let you know that it is firmly based in an extension of the Season 1 universe.

* * *

Special Agent Decker drummed his fingers irritably on the steering wheel as he sat in long line of cars. He had been inching his way forward for the last half an hour, but now things seemed to have snarled up completed. 

Five minutes later he still hadn't moved.

He sighed in frustration and gritted his teeth as he started to list the ways he'd make Don to pay for getting him stuck in DC's hellish traffic.

(Earlier) 

_When Booth had called him, Decker had been at one of the Bureau's field offices. There'd been an early morning conference to assign agents to specific tasks and as the main liaison between what was now five investigations: drugs, counterfeiting, arms dealing, the warehouse and the overarching case, he'd had his work cut out making sure that everyone was working to the same agenda._

_From there it should have been a straightforward drive to the Jeffersonian's leafy buildings, but as he'd climbed into his car he'd got a page from one of the other agents from the warehouse case:_ No Mahoney.

_He called Rogers back and found out that Mahoney hadn't made it in, even though he had scheduled a 7:45 conference. A lot of time had ticked by since then and there'd been no word. And his phone was permanently engaged._

_Decker had listened to the meaningful silence at the end of Rogers' explanation. The three of them went way back, all the way to the academy - and Mahoney, for all his faults, had saved both his and Rogers' asses more than once._

_He'd closed his eyes and leant back into the headrest before telling his Rogers that he'd deal with it._

_So twenty minutes later he'd been hammering on the door to Mahoney's appartment._

_There'd been a thud and a string of muffled curses before the door had been yanked open and he'd been confronted with the sight of Mahoney in a baggy t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants looking unshaven and half awake._

_"Andy?" Mahoney had said blinking in surprise._

_Decker had shoved a coffee into his friend's hands and shaken his head, "It's gone ten, God damn it. Get dressed. Get into work before they send Larson round to track down the mysteriously missing agent."_

_Mahoney blinked sluggishly again._

_"Get into work - you're over two hours late for your own conference." Decker started to turn on his heel, then paused, "And put the damned phone back on the hook!"_

_With that, he'd grabbed the handle of the door and slammed it in Mahoney's gaping face, then stalked off down the corridor, running a hand distractedly through his hair._

_He was furious with Mahoney for being unable to keep things together even when the stakes were as high as they were on this case. _

_'Five agents were dead and Mahoney was having a lie in', he'd throught as he got into his vehicle and slammed the door aggressively behind him._

_He'd jammed his foot on the gas and pulled out sharply into the stream of traffic, ignoring the cacophony of horns greeting his manoeuvre._

(Present)

Much good that it had done him he thought , sourly, looking at the traffic around him. He'd crept forward another few yards while he'd been recalling his visit to Mahoney's place, but now he was stopped again.

His eyes narrowed suddenly as he spotted a gap by the side of the road. He looked at his watch and then peered up at a road sign.

He pursued his lips then made a decision, swinging the car onto the sidewalk and then into a small parking bay.

It was going to be quicker to walk to the Jeffersonian.

* * *

In the lab Bones was pacing between Hodgins' workstation and the autopsy table, exuding impatience. 

She knew that there were other things she could be doing, but she couldn't seem to focus. She needed to know if their supposition was going to be proved right.

For the thousandth time that morning, she wished Booth were there.

He wouldn't keep her waiting.

She sat heavily in a chair.

He'd never let her down.

She had to swallow hard against a lump in her throat as she slowly admitted to herself how much she relied on him.

She gripped the arm of the chair, _How __had this happened? _

She had promised herself she'd never rely on anyone - that way lay only disappointment. You could only trust yourself.

_How had Booth made it through those defences?_

Just thinking his name made his face startlingly clear in her mind. The expressive features which telegraphed every emotion - from anger, to frustration, to amusement - so clearly. Those dark, warm eyes and the slow genuine smile he saved for her.

That smile.

The way that it made her feel warm all over.

Made her feel safe.

Protected.

She took a shuddering breath as her chest constricted.

Loved.

She pushed up from the chair and hurried off up the stairs to the safety of her office, her eyes misting with tears.

* * *

Jack's worried gaze followed her retreating back up the stairs. He'd caught a glimpse of her face as she'd whirled away. He couldn't recall seeing such naked emotion on Brennan's face before, her features pale and terrified. 

He reached slowly for his phone and dialled an extension.

"Angela?" He spoke as soon as the other line picked up, "Go see Brennan," He paused for a moment, "She's in her office."

He didn't wait for her reply and hung up, watching the open corridor in front of Brennan's office in concern.

His shoulders relaxed as Angela hurried into view - _she'd know what to do._

Angela glanced down at him and their eyes met.

He felt himself smile from the inside and he raised a hand in greeting.

Angela nodded slightly - her smile matching his - and then she turned towards the door.

* * *

In the hospital, Booth was lying back on the pillows, his eyes closed. 

Tension scored every line of his body.

He was concentrating on taking slow, deliberate breaths, trying to ignore the pain in his side - and the siren call of the morphine.

_What was wrong with a little oblivion?_ The hateful voice in his head asked.

_He couldn't deny he was in pain - he needed rest if he wanted to get better quickly. Didn't he want to get back on his feet? Be able to help her?_

His hands bunched into fists at that thought and he forced his eyes open.

As his gaze travelled around the room he mouth twisted into a dark smile - _how had he ended up with a subconscious willing to play that dirty?_

Of course he wanted to help her, but pumping his body full of drugs was not the way to go about it.

His eyes lingered on the clock - Decker should be there by now.

Maybe she'd call soon, let him know what they found out.

He wanted to hear her voice so badly he could almost taste it.

He closed his eyes and pictured her sat at his bedside. Holding his hand.

Just thinking about her touch, his body relaxed slightly.

He would see her later and he was going to be alert enough to enjoy it, the lure of chemical oblivion slowly faded as he thought about something much more powerful.

The soft pressure of her hand holding his.

Her blue-green gaze and gentle, worried smile.

The love shining through - reflecting the same emotion lighting his own expression.

His eyes flew open and he took a gulping breath.

_How had he missed it?_

What he felt. What she felt.

The feelings they so obviously shared.

He shook his head slowly - the evening, and her visit, couldn't come soon enough - but at least he had something constructive to think about.

Like how he was going to let Temperance know that he loved her.

* * *

The office door was closed. Angela hesitated for a moment, before knocking softly. 

There was a pause and what sounded like a muffled sob and then her best friend's voice quietly begged her to go away.

Angela didn't hestiate, she opened the door and stepped inside, pulling it closed behind her.

Bones looked up, her eyes red rimmed and accusing.

Angela didn't say a word, just crossed the room and enveloped her friend in her arms.

Temperance was rigid for a second before burying her face in Angela's shoulder.

Angela was only able to pick out broken phrases as Temperance's shoulders heaved, but they told her all she needed to know.

"He's not going anywhere Bren." Angela paused, wiping at her own tears. "He's going to be fine. He'd never hurt you and he wouldn't ever leave you."

Temperance sat back and looked at her friend, eyes wide.

Angela smiled gently and took her hand, "And he loves you just as much as you love him. You just needed a bit of time to figure it out."

Temperance took a shaky breath and rubbed her eyes, "I feel ridiculous, crying like that. I'm sorry..." She trailed off as Ange shook her head.

"Don't you dare apologise." She wagged a finger in mock-admonishment, "And don't try to rationalise this. Just go see him tonight."

* * *

TBC


	17. Fish

**Disclaimer - **Bones and all its lovely characters belong to someone else.

**A/N - **Much delayed, but another chapter has landed.

Bones was sipping from the glass of water that her best friend had handed her. Her face was still tear-reddened, but she was back in control.

She caught Angela's eyes and smiled slightly, "That was weird."

Angela shook her head, "No, it was perfectly understandable."

Bones looked away and stared at the floor, aware that her face was getting redder again - this time due to embarrassment.

"I never lose control like that." She stated slowly, her fingers tapping against the glass nervously.

Angela hesitated for a moment and then spoke, "Everyone loses control occasionally sweetie." She paused, her smile robbing her next words of any sting, "Even you." She waved her hands enthusiastically in front of her, "It's no big deal - what's more important is what you do next."

Bones put the glass down and pushed onto her feet.

"I wasn't talking about getting back to work, Bren." She admonished.

Bones shrugged and moved towards the door, but Angela's hand on her shoulder forestalled her.

Bones bit her lip, then blurted out, "I'm going to see him tonight and then..." She took a breath, "... and then we'll see."

Angela grinned and dropped her hand.

Bones' hand was on the door handle, when a thought struck her and she spun round, "Ange, I promised him I'd bring Parker to the hospital tonight." She looked uncomfortable for a moment, "I'm not sure that I can deal with Rebecca. Could you call her?"

Angela nodded. "Leave it to me."

The two women shared a smile before heading back out into the lab.

Bones went straight to the autopsy area, but Angela swung past Hodgins' desk and gave him a discreet thumbs up.

He returned the gesture with a vindicated smile, his blue eyes blazing intently at her. Almost unconsciously she stepped towards him, magnetised by his look.

Hodgins' breath caught, but a sudden commotion caused them to turn to the entrance of the lab. A tall, vaguely familiar figure walked in and ended what sounded like a heated phone call as he jabbed a button on his cell and shoved it back into his pocket.

His eyes scanned the room and came to rest on Bones.

"Dr Brennan?" He asked as he strode over to the autopsy area and then halted, looking at the gate in confusion.

Brennan nodded and dumped her gloves in the trash as she descended the stairs, "Special Agent Decker?" She asked, as the gate swung open and she stepped out to stand facing him, her hand extended.

He took the proffered hand and shook it, surprised at how small and delicate she looked. He'd never seen Booth's infamous partner, but the rumour mill had had him imagining that she'd look rather more formidable in person.

But when her hand closed around his and he stared into her eyes, he realised that the steel was in her alright. He also noticed that she was even more beautiful than he'd been led to believe.

"Good to meet you, Dr Brennan." He said as they shook hands, "Booth tells me you need some help?"

Bones nodded and indicated for him to follow her over to Hodgins' workstation. The rest of the team clustered around as she explained what they'd discovered...

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Booth pushed his lunch around the plate, unable to work up any enthusiasm for eating with the vile taste in his mouth from the drugs. He glanced at the clock and started to tap the fork against his plate.

_Andy should have arrived at the Jeffersonian ages ago, but Bones hadn't called._

He dropped the fork in irritation. _That was it! He was going stir crazy in the hospital, not knowing what was going on._

He shoved the plate aside and reopened the file that Cullen had left behind. It was time to do a bit of investigating himself.

Bones would call when she had something to tell him, and who knew, maybe he'd have found something himself.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Only half an hour later Decker headed out of the lab a sheaf of papers and several discs with information on in his hand.

He looked back to see Bones and her team stood watching him intently as he left. They wanted to find out who John Doe VII was, and more importantly, get the gang that had put _their _agent in hospital.

He shook his head slightly, wondering if Booth knew how hard his eccentric bunch of scientists were taking his absence.

As polite as they all were, Decker was left in no doubt that he was a substitute.

He'd only needed one look at Brennan's face as she'd spoken about her partner to know exactly how she felt. The bug guy, who had a reputation for having a theory for everything, had been quiet. Every time he'd been about to pipe up with some wild comment he'd glanced at the FBI agent and thought better of it. And the artist, had been stoical and reserved - two emotions he wondered if she'd used much at all before.

He smiled sardonically as he walked out into the bright sunshine and headed over to retrieve his car, _who'd have thought Booth would become an integral part of the a team of squints. _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The non-descript truck that had been full of crates of banknotes in early dawn was heading into DC.

There was no sign of the injured man in the cab or the figure who had been staring at the computer screen, but the same man and woman sat up front.

The man gestured at a road sign.

She nodded, before tossing her hair behind her head and turning off the freeway.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Bones had called Booth to let him know that Decker had been and gone.

The conversation had been brief because Dr Davies had arrived to check up on his patient.

Booth had wanted to tell the doctor that the best thing he could do for his health was to let him keeping talking to his partner. That the sound of her excited voice earlier had soothed him in a way that no treatment that the hospital had provided had managed.

Instead he'd said a hurried goodbye and submitted while the Dr Davies had poked and squinted at his injuries.

"Doc, any chance you can go easy on the squinting?" Booth said in a pain-filled his.

"Excuse me?" The young doctor leant back to look at his patient.

"In my line of work when people squint at stuff like that it's usually a bad thing." Booth explained.

The doctor raised an eyebrow and then laughed.

"I can imagine." He paused, "Well you're actually healing really well."

Booth looked skeptical.

The doctor tilted his head on one side, "You are. Even if it doesn't feel like it."

He made some notes on the chart, before starting to poke and squint again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After speaking to Booth, Bones had spent several hours reviewing two more skeletons.

This time there were no revelations, but with Zach assistance she went over every detail of the markings that the weapons had made on the bones. They would use the results to run a comparison with information on another FBI database.

She looked up with a smile of thanks as Hodgins placed a mug of coffee on the table behind her. He smiled encouragingly back at her and silently handed Zach a drink.

His attention drifted away as he saw Angela walking you the steps to join them. He'd handed her mug to her with a flourish and she tucked her arm into his before leaning against the railing.

_Her people. _ Bones thought with a strange surge of affection for them all, _Booth was right, she wasn't alone any longer._

Angela started to speak, bringing her attention back to the present.

"We're picking Parker up at 6, Bren - and I'll be dropping him back by 7:30, or else." Angela's expression was smug.

Bones closed her eyes in relief, she hadn't wanted to let Booth down, but the prospect of dealing with Rebecca, or Parker for that matter on her own, had terrified her.

She gave a wry smile, perhaps she still had a way to go with other people's people.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Booth frowned at the page, twiddling the pen in one hand. The file was bulging with reports and key information about the case. It was obviously Cullen's reference source and where he kept all the little details that were niggling at him, the things that didn't add up.

And as Booth re-read the interview report with the family of the engraver, his own instincts told him that something was off. He couldn't put his finger on it and he was left in much the same position as his boss had been, judging by the series of elaborate question marks that Cullen had doodled around the border.

He started to scan the text again:

_"The witness (Mrs Andreau) confirmed that she and her husband had been married for four years... She stated that they had been very happy... The witness claimed she knew very little about her husband's job..."_

Booth frowned, there just seemed to be something, _non-commital_, about the way the police officer had recorded the interview. A kind of subconscious wariness about taking the woman's words at face value. It was the sort of bias that law enforcers had to be careful of in writing up reports, p_erhaps the cop had be inexperienced or no good,_ Booth pondered but he knew that everything else about the way they had conducted the initial investigation had been first class.

Booth flipped the page over impatiently. There were no more question marks, but at the bottom of the text, just above where the officer had signed the report, he noticed a tiny doodle of a fish.

Booth grabbed the paper, and peered closely at the image.

He'd seen that the symbol before.

But what had made the cop interviewing Mary Andreau draw it?

He pushed the bell by his bedside, he needed to talk to Cullen.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


	18. Kiss

**Disclaimer - **Bones and all it's lovely characters belong to someone else.

**A / N ** - At last, a week off work and some time to write... therefore time for another chapter. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review and leave comments. They're always very greatly appreciated.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Decker leafed through the reports that the computer geeks at the bureau had produced on the basis of the data that the team at the Jeffersonian had found.

Amazingly they had four possible matches.

Decker shook his head, wondering what were the odds of four men with advanced pneumoconiosis from basically the same area of the country going missing over the last three years. His gut told him this didn't sound like a coincidence.

He thanked the computer analyst and wandered off to the main data repository to pull the relevant files.

As he walked, still glancing through the sheaf of papers, he noticed a familiar icy-blond striding towards him.

_Larsen. _He sighed inwardly. He so did not want to deal with her insistent questioning at that moment, but there was little sense in trying to avoid her. He stopped in front of her and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Larsen folded her arms and glared at him, "Special Agent Decker." She said, managing to make his name sound like a curse.

_Fine - she wants to play it that way, _Decker shrugged to himself, "Agent Larsen. Always a pleasure." He winced inwardly as he saw her eyes narrow threateningly, "I just stopped to find out when you wanted to interview me."

There was a sceptical silence as Larsen stared him down.

He waved the papers vaguely in her direction, "I'm chasing down leads _ma'am_, but don't want to be out and about if I'm supposed to be here."

"Five thirty. Meeting room 6." With that instruction she whirled on her heel and marched off down the corridor.

Decker let out a long breath as he watched her disappearing around a corner, her shoulders rigid. As he continued along on his way he reminded himself that _that_ was why having a relationship with someone you worked with was a bad idea. He shook his head slightly as he entered the brightly lit, highly air-conditioned data repository, wondering why he felt like he should be ordering a last meal.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Booth gave a triumphant smile and pencilled in some digits, then counted along the columns.

_Seven!? _He slapped himself lightly on the forehead with the palm of his hand and looked back down at the puzzle in annoyance.

He _knew_ he was good at pattern recognition. He was numerate and - whatever Bones might say - he knew he had a precise logical brain. He dropped the pen on the tray in disgust, but this was the third number puzzle he screwed up. He shut the book and dropped it onto the tray next to the pen before glancing at the clock. _Great - the whole irritating process had only killed half an hour. _

He'd been waiting to talk to his boss for nearly two hours, but he had been holed up with Larsen all morning. The nurses had become rapidly fed up of his continual requests to make a call and insisted that he'd have to wait for his boss to ring back. One of them had taken pity on their obviously highly frustrated patient and thrust a puzzle book at him.

Booth closed his eyes for a moment and then picked up the file again. Maybe some thing new would occur on the fifth read-through of all the papers.

He'd just started scanning the first page, when there was an abrupt knock on his door.

He called for them to come in and stared in surprise at his visitor, "Sir?"

Cullen nodded absently and then lowered himself into the seat, "You are not working this case and yet, there you are - reading my file." He paused to glower at his agent, "And I've got a line of post-it notes reaching half way across my desk from you."

"Technically Sir, you just said I wasn't going to be in the field." Booth waved his good arm around the room expressively, "And I'm not." He tried an ingratiating smile when he caught Cullen's deepening frown, "Just trying to do what I can, Sir."

Cullen snorted and shook his head, he doubted that his agent recalled their conversation outside the warehouse when Booth had been barely able to stay upright without help and he'd told him that he'd be back on the case when he said so.

He looked directly at Booth, "What've you got?"

"We need to bring Mary Andreau in for questioning." Booth stated.

"Because?" Cullen prompted.

Booth pulled the interview sheet out of the file and placed on the tray facing his boss, "You read it this right?"

Cullen nodded.

"It doesn't scan. There's something off about her replies."

Cullen shrugged, "Her husband had been missing, then the body's found. No-one would be at their best."

Booth shook his head impatiently, knowing his boss liked to poke holes in theories even if he thought they were correct, "It's not that kind of off. I've interviewed enough grieving families to know this isn't how they speak."

"Everyone deals in a different way, Booth."

"Well, it's not just me. The cop doing the interview wasn't sold and you've drawn question marks all around the border." Booth exclaimed.

Cullen conceded the point, "What else?"

Booth flipped the paper over and jabbed the little goldfish with his pen, "That!"

"The fish?" Cullen looked genuinely confused now.

"It's a Jinkin." Booth informed him.

"And that's significant how?" Cullen asked.

"It's a relatively uncommon goldfish - and one that's been used as a symbol by Bathdyaur."

"Drugs and the engraver's wife." Cullen said slowly.

"Apparently so." Booth jabbed the pen at the little sketch, "Unless she keeps fish and the cop was a fish-spotter or something."

Cullen gave a short laugh, "We'll check it out." He leant back to pick up the phone at Booth's bedside, as he waited for someone to pick up he added, "I heard about the little breakthrough we've had with one of our unidentified bodies. You got anymore detail?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Bones listened as Special Agent Decker quickly ran through what he'd found out, "We're having to pull files from a couple of different sources in Pennsylvania to get the information you'll need to work out who the victim is," He paused for a moment, then continued, "But something is up generally for four of them to be missing."

Bones was inclined to agree, but had no evidence to work from, "I guess that's an angle you can work?"

"Yeah, but we need to be sure who we've got first." He gave an impatient sigh, "Most of the records are on paper, and 'in remote storage' so we won't have them until tomorrow morning. Sorry."

Bones made a dismissive noise, "Just get them to us as soon as you can."

"'Kay."

Decker was about to sign off and head towards his meeting with Agent Larsen, when Bones interrupted him, "Thank you for you help Special Agent Decker."

He allowed himself a slight smile at her serious tone and decided that at least Booth wouldn't be hunting him down for offending his partner once he was back on his feet.

"You're welcome." He replied, "I'll see you in the morning."

Bones hung up the phone and turned back to the lab, she was unsurprised to see that Hodgins had a USGS map of Pennsylvania up on the main screen.

"There's a lot of red areas there, Hodgins." She commented.

"Yeah, if we can work out who the guy is and where he's from that's going to be the best way to narrow the search, but we may be able to match soil from there with soil from one of the other bodies." Hodgins pressed a button and the map disappeared.

They both turned expectantly as Angela suddenly appeared behind them, "Come on Sweetie, it's visiting time."

Bones swallowed suddenly and looked nervous. Confident as ever, Angela simply slipped her arm through her friend's and led her towards her office to collect her things.

Bones waved in vague acknowledgement of Hodgins' shouted farewell as they headed out of the building.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Cool car!" Parker had exclaimed as he had clambered into Bones' car under Angela's supervision.

Bones had smiled and bitten back the urge to tell him that his reaction was a lot more positive than his father's had been. Instead she had concentrated on nodding politely at Rebecca, who was glowering in her doorway, as she pulled away from the curb.

The drive to the hospital was relatively short and Ange had been doing a good job at keeping Parker entertained, but as the large building loomed into sight, Parker frowned and then tugged lightly on Bones' sleeve.

"Careful hon, you don't want to distract the driver." Angela said settling him back on the seat.

"What is it Parker?" Temperance asked quietly, catching his eye in the rear-view mirror as the traffic slowed to a halt on the way into the hospital parking lot.

"Thank you for taking me to see Daddy." The little boy announced his eyes open and trusting, "I know Mom wouldn't've taken me." He smiled at her, "Good thing Dad's got you."

Bones was completely nonplussed, she didn't know how to respond to Parker's earnest thankyou or how to deal with his accurate, if unfortunate assessment of his parents' relationship.

She settled for a smile and a shrugging _your welcome._

She was in for another shock as they got out of the car and Parker grabbed one of her hands firmly in his, while Ange held on tight to his other hand.

When they reached the entrance to the hospital, it was chaos once more, with people milling around everywhere. Without thinking, Bones reached down and lifted Parker into her arms to ease their way through the crowd.

Angela trailed behind fighting back a huge grin with limited success.

Booth had been looking out for his visitors through the window of his room and his heart squeezed painfully as he saw his son nestled in Bones' arms just outside his room.

Parker tended to be a little wary around people he didn't know, but evidently Bones had won him over. Booth could just make out Bones leaning over to let his little boy down, and then the door was flung open and Parker came charging in.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Parker and Angela had left only a few moments before in a cab, but the strangely expectant tension had descended in the small room.

Booth watched as Bones picked at the hem of the sheet on his bed.

Neither had spoken about the case, but they couldn't seem to find another topic of conversation.

Booth glanced at his puzzle book, wondering if he could try another of those annoying mathematical games and tried to ignore the nagging internal voice that was berating him for not getting on with _telling her_.

It had all seemed a lot easier earlier in the day, when he'd realised how he felt. He looked at the top of Bones' head, which was the only part he could see, and realised that he wasn't the only one behaving oddly.

"Hey, Bones?" He said quietly, before reaching out to brush the curtain of hair out of her eyes and then cupping her cheek lightly.

His hand froze in place, as her blue-green eyes caught his.

No-one had been able to make him feel these gravity defying sensations just by looking at him and, without thinking, his thumb gently stroked her cheek.

Her skin was even more soft and delicate than he had imagined and he wanted to touch more of it. Wanted it so badly his hands positively tingled in expectation.

She was still watching him, unmoving, her eyes growing wider by the second, her breathing stuttering as his hand trailed down her face to rest on her collarbone.

Then, after a moment of perfect stillness, she leant forward, one hand tangling in his hair and pulling him in for a kiss.

The kiss literally took his breath away. This was no tentative test to see what it was like, _she _wanted him, Booth had barely got his mind around that concept before his hand was spearing through her hair and pulling her closer to him.

The sound of their laboured breathing was competing with the roaring in his ears, but he was oblivious to everything except the feeling of the woman in his arms.

He shifted his grip in attempt to lift her onto the bed, but this ill advised movement had him seeing stars of a very different kind. Booth slumped back onto the bed, his face gritted in pain.

Bones released him, horrified.

Booth opened an eye a crack and smiled at her, reached across to loosen the hand that she had folded against her chest protectively, before bringing it to his lips.

Bones' fingers tightened around his and she shook her head slowly. "Stay still." She admonished as her lips descended on his once again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


	19. Scrubs

**Disclaimer: **Bones and all it's lovely characters belong to someone else.

**A / N** - I'm back! My new Mac has meant I haven't been able to upload anything for ages, but the new document system means that I can once more, so with any luck I will be able to resolve my 'in progress' stories that have been hanging around forever and day. Hopefully a few readers are still around despite the wait!

For those new to this story, it's set in an extension of season one (yes, it's been on 'in progress' for that long) so it misses out all the developments since then.

XXXXXXX

A peaceful silence has descended over the room. Booth was lying on his side, his brown eyes watching the tiny changes in expression as Bones studied him intently, slowly stoking his cheek. Her other hand was locked tight in his, pressed against his heart and, for the first time since he'd found himself cooped up in a hospital bed, he found himself forgetting the pain.

They had sat like this for nearly half an hour now. Luxuriating in the feel of the other.

Every now and then she would lean over and brush his lips with hers as if wanting to reseal their connection.

These caressing lacked the breath-stealing passion of their first hectic kisses, but they were somehow more intimate for the gentle comfort they brought.

His eyelids were growing heavier as her fingers eased the pain induced lines from his face and, as much as he wanted to stay awake and feel every second of her touching him, exhaustion gradually won out.

Under her palm Bones could feel Booth relax, his heartbeat slowing, his breathing coming deeper, slower, and the tension around his eyes gradually loosening into sleep.

Her own heart was thudding in her chest as she looked down at him. Emotions larger and more overwhelming than she could ever remember feeling surged through her as she looked at the man who had finally found a way through the walls that she had erected around herself. Her rational mind wanted to analyse and probe further, but her heart simply wanted cry out in the sheer joy of finally connecting to someone, connecting to _him_, on this level.

She had thought her view on faith was fixed forever, but the tug she felt deep inside her chest as she gazed down at Booth made her wonder if there wasn't a battered, starved soul inside her somewhere, slowly moving into the light.

And the prospect of leaving him, of pulling her hand from his loose grip, of not feeling his warm skin under hers, whether for a moment or the night, made her shiver.

She blinked, she _knew _she couldn't stay there all night, but she wasn't sure she could make herself leave.

In the end one of the nurses forced her hand. She bit back a plea when they asked her to leave, knowing they were just doing their jobs and that she had been granted an hour and half more time at his bedside than the regulations allowed.

She disengaged her hand reluctantly, savouring the final moments of contact with Booth's skin and the steady, reassuring beat of his heart.

Before she left, she leant down and brushed the hair back from his face before kissing him fully on the lips.

He hardly stirred, but she saw his lips slowly twitch into a smile.

She left him like that, smiling in his sleep, her own heart fluttering frantically in her chest and her mouth dry.

XXXXXX

The hospital corridors were quiet, but a steady stream of staff walked purposefully past. The frantic tension that had seemed to inhabit the place a few nights previously had dissipated as the immediate crisis passed. There were still FBI agents and police officers dotted around, but their steely eyed vigilance was seemingly incongruous among the normal ebb and flow of hospital business. They had even opened up the waiting room with it's hard unwelcoming plastic chairs, where she had sat feeling desperate and terrified two nights ago.

An agent remained on guard, watching the those coming and going in the room although he was no longer standing gun in hand by the entranceway. The main corridor was too important a thoroughfare to remain permanently blocked. Instead he remained standing off to one side, tense and watchful and guiltily aware that his slow sweeps of the room were not helping those waiting to relax.

He nodded politely at Bones as she walked by and was surprised by the warm smile she returned. He felt his shoulders unknot slightly, guessing that there had to have been good news for the injured lead agent if she was smiling like that.

He watched her pour a cup of water from the cooler before she turned back to him and waved a cup. The agent hesitated for a moment. He shouldn't really allow himself even the small distraction, but his throat was parched from the air-conditioning, so he found himself nodding - and praying that Cullen wouldn't suddenly pop up out of nowhere.

He took the plastic cup with a muttered 'thank you' and gulped it down in guilty seconds, deciding to ignore the puzzled look on Bones' face.

She took the empty cup back with a shrug and dropped it in the recycling bin before exchanging a quiet good night with the watchful agent.

To make it out of the waiting room, Bones picked her way past a nervous looking couple and a handful of ice hockey players who looked battered enough to be requiring treatment themselves, but were actually awaiting news of a team-mate who'd been poleaxed an hour earlier.

As she approached the main door, there was a sudden crash and it swung open to reveal a young woman in surgical scrubs and a mask, pushing a trolley before her. There was a patient on the trolley, covered with a bulky blanket and his face swathed in bandages. Behind the bandages he was moaning indistinctly, his head rolling from side to side.

Bones stepped to one side to let the woman through, realising that if she didn't she was liable to be run down. The woman tossed her hair back over her shoulder and ploughed on towards the door that led onto the corridor which Bones had just emerged from.

Bones watched the inexorable progress of the trolley wincing as feet and discarded hockey sticks were dragged rapidly out of harms way.

The agent stepped out to halt the woman, as Bones slowly pushed the door open something jangling in the back of her mind made her turn back again to watch as the woman gesticulated at the agent.

Bones frowned for a moment and then dismissed her disquiet, her mind drifting back to Booth and she recalled the the look in his eyes when they had finally pulled back from that second kiss and stared at one and other. She wondered if she had looked as stunned as he did.

She smiled to herself, knowing that she must have done. Then she stepped through the door and allowed it to swing closed behind her.

As it did so, she caught snatches of the woman's irritable explanation, "... fall in an industrial accident... cracked ribs..."

Bones continued to muse on the way that Booth's brown eyes darkened as they kissed and then she caught a final snatch of conversation as the agent waved the trolley through the doorway, "serious... cervical fracture..."

She kept walking, heading out to reception, but while her immediate thoughts were of Booth, something churned in the back of her mind.

Bones suddenly halted, the prickling sensation was back with a vengeance, in her mind's eye she saw the patient's lolling head, the words 'cervical fracture' echoing. Followed closely by the odd sight of a fully scrubbed up doctor, wearing a mask pushing a trolley through the hospital while her long mane dark of hair swirled around her shoulders.

She hesitated for a moment or two longer and then span on her heel her slow walk, speeding up to a jog as she flung the door open and rushed over to the agent, heedless of the hockey sticks on the floor.

The agent blinked at her abrupt return in surprise.

"Where'd they go?" She demanded.

"Ma'am?" The agent questioned in confusion.

"The trolley!" Bones exclaimed, her head whipping around as she tried to stare through the cross-hatched, strengthened glass of the door.

The agent nodded in the direction of the corridor, "That way. On to theatre." His eyes narrowed and his grip tightened on his weapon as he saw a flash of panic steal across Bones' face, "Ma'am?"

"Alert whoever that there's a security breach." She instructed impatiently and his radio was at his lips before he could consciously process the instruction.

"What sort of breach?" He asked, hesitating, "How do you know?"

Bones ground her teeth in frustration, wanting to grab the radio herself, "A cervical fracture is a broken neck. If that was what was really wrong that so called patient, he would be wearing a neck brace!"

The agent looked at her for a horrified moment before barking an alert into the radio. He then drew his weapon and slammed the door open.

There was no-one in sight, but the trolley stood abandoned, a pale green set of scrubs and piles of bandages lying in a heap alongside.

The agent swore viciously and then updated the description, or rather the lack of one, into the radio.


	20. Gun

**Disclaimer - **Bones and all it's lovely characters belong to someone else.

**A/N - **it's been a bit of a year all in all, but I am on a mission to finish this poor neglected story! It's Season 1 universe (so lots has not yet happened). This chapter will be a bit short as I get back into the swing of it...

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Locking down a hospital wasn't easy. Even with the huge number of police and FBI agents filling the corridors.

In some ways the sheer numbers were a disadvantage. Too many people who didn't know each other - and the possibility of someone being allowed to pass who really shouldn't. At least the late hour meant that visitors were at a minimum and the patients were generally in their beds.

Ten minutes had passed, several frantic sweeps of corridors, rooms and cupboards had yielded nothing.

So the searching continued and every agent and officer was on edge, hands hovering close to their weapons.

Bones was still standing in the waiting room, repeating her sketchy description of the phoney doctor and patient for what seemed like the twentieth time.

The agent who'd been guarding the door, who she'd discovered was called Special Agent Roberts, had been subjected to the same questions, but Bones had to admit things were tougher on him - she'd heard Cullen's exasperated voice over the phone from ten feet away: _Y__ou were supposed to be guarding the Goddamned door! Not waving everyone right on through!_

After finishing his notes, the latest officer to take down the description indicated that Bones was free to go. She stood, torn for a moment, and then headed towards the door after nodding in the direction of the unfortunate Special Agent Roberts.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In a cramped ceiling void, the man and woman from the truck hunkered down watching the police sweep the corridors and catching snatches of conversation. They looked at one another and then down a small palmtop computer which was displaying a detailed plan of the ducting and crawl spaces that criss-crossed each of floor of the hospital.

Silently the woman pointed at the screen and then into the shadowy darkness ahead of them. While it would take them a while to get there dodging air-conditioning units, air scrubbers and the like, the route she traced would take them to the room in which the critically injured member of their operation was lying under heavy guard.

The man nodded slowly and pulled a heavy, ugly looking pistol from his belt and then drew out the long barrel of a silencer.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Booth had woken long before the door was thrust open and his room was searched by a determined if apologetic pair of local cops.

Even in his exhausted, medicated slumber, he'd picked up on the subtle changes in atmosphere in the corridor outside. The rushing feet, snatched terse conversation and the palpable tension.

After three more sweeps of his room he knew as much as anyone else did. Two bad guys were loose somewhere in the building and if it hadn't been for his beautiful Bones, no-one would have even realised - and no-one had a clue what was going on now.

Booth pushed back the covers and struggled into an upright position.

There was no question about going back to sleep.

He looked towards the closet, judging if his IV line was going to stretch.

It wasn't.

A familiar, determined light came into his eyes and he reached down and pulled out the needle and swung his legs gingerly round and onto the floor.

With his good arm bracing him he stood up slowly, pathetically pleased his knees didn't buckle.

He closed the distance to the closet which had looked so close, but in reality seemed to stretch away into infinity. His step was slow and the pain of moving his abused body told in the hitches in his breathing and his laboured movement.

He dragged open the door and pulled out his gun and a sweater and track pants.

After the slow shuffle back to the bed, Booth contemplated the clothes. He bent experimentally at the waist wondering how easy it would be to pull on the pants. He halted abruptly as the movement jarred his cracked ribs and gulped in a series of shallow breaths.

He stood up again slowly, sweat beading on his forehead.

He dismissed the clothes - his FBI issue shirt, left unbuttoned and with one arm outside it, and the loose pants he'd been wearing to sleep were going to have to do. It was either that, or get back into bed.

He tightened the drawstring, and thrust his gun into the waistband.

After pushing his feet into his boots and making little effort to tie the laces, he made his slow, painful way to the door and pushed it open.

He knew where the gang member they'd taken at the warehouse was being kept and it wasn't far from his own room. Booth couldn't imagine anywhere else that the fake Doc and her partner in crime would be headed.

He headed along the corridor slowly, weaving slightly and occasionally pausing to catch his breath propped against the wall.

The hallway remained mercifully empty, all the nurses and doctors having been asked to stay in central areas.

As he reached the penultimate corner, his face by now drawn and grey, Booth heard a exclamation cut short by a series of dull pops.

The noise raised the hair on the back of his neck, and his gun was in his hand without conscious thought. He broke into a shambling jog, ignoring the searing pain in his broken collar bone and the fire that lit once again across the burns on his left arm.

As he rounded the final corner, he was confronted by the sight of three men down, blood pooling around them. A woman was standing watch in the door of the room and, even as she caught the the movement of Booth's arrival at the end of the corridor, there was another muted pop from inside the room.

Booth's shouted for her to put her hands up, his gun raised to eye level, his good arm steady as a rock.

She stared coldly at him across the distance, her own weapon aimed squarely between Booth's eyes.

They stood and the moment froze.


	21. Sprinkler

**Disclaimer** - Bones and all its lovely characters belong to someone else

**A/N** - Once again apologies for the incredibly long gaps between updates on this one and thank you so much for all the reviews.

* * *

"Drop the gun!" Booth shouted again.

The woman didn't blink or make any kind of move. Suddenly there was movement in the doorway beside her, and a second gun appeared, the long barrel extended with a silencer. There was no hesitation from the second gunman. Booth tensed at the dull report of the gun as it fired, but there was so little time to react that he could do little more than squeeze off a wildly aimed shot.

The bullet whistled past him and embedded itself in the wall behind. The two gang members took advantage of Booth's momentary distraction, the woman diving into the room and slamming the door behind her but, not, Booth realised before his shot clipped her arm.

Booth swore and made his way up the corridor at a shambling run, his gun at the ready.

He stopped by the bodies, at least two of the agents were obviously still breathing but the steady flow of blood on the the pristine tiles told Booth that they need urgent attention.

He knew there was no point in attempting to storm into a locked room with two armed suspects on his own, but he still ground his teeth in frustration at his inability to act before reaching down to grab a hissing radio from the belt of one of the men.

As he thumbed the mike and started to speak, the unearthly wail of the fire alarm burst into life and the sprinklers began jetting a fine mist of water along the corridor.

Booth gasped at the cold sensation as his clothes rapidly became soaked before focusing on instructing the FBI teams as to where their suspects were while making sure that they brought a trauma team with them.

Even as he signed off, he could hear orders being barked out.

He turned his attention back to the three badly injured agents, finally taking in the details of their faces and his expression settled into a dark frown as he realised that he knew two of them well, Peterson and O'Malley. Friends from way back.

He knelt down beside O'Malley, whose skin was ashen and where there was no discernible rise and fall of his chest, and checked for a pulse. Booth could feel his fury building as he searched for a sign that his friend still had a chance. He was about to give up when he felt a weak, thready pulse against his fingers.

He closed his eyes for a moment in relief and then hesitated as he wondered how he could compress bullet wounds on three different causalities at the same time and keep the icy water from sending them any deeper into shock.

He was saved by the doors at either end of the corridor swinging open and a group of grim looking agents and local police officers surging towards him, followed by a surgical team led by the familiar Dr Davies.

The doctor managed a wry look at his erstwhile patient, before gesturing for him to get out of the way and starting to work on stabilising the injured men.

Booth picked out the senior agent and brought him up to speed. It was difficult to make yourself heard over the din of the alarm, so Booth pointed to the door and indicated that he'd seen two shooters.

The senior agent nodded, that accorded with what they knew.

He paused, taking in Booth's injuries, pale face and the gun still held firmly in his hand, then shook his head and gestured for Booth to stand back. Booth looked mutinous for a moment, but finally stood aside realising that his reactions were a lot slower than usual and he was more likely to put other people at risk if he insisted on being involved.

He scarcely noticed as one of the police officers handed him a coat and only realised how much he was shivering when he slid it over his shoulders.

He stood back against the wall, watching the doctors rig IV lines and staunch the bleeding, stabilising the patients enough to get them onto a trolley and into an OR. At the same time, the agents got ready to batter open the door. They lined up, providing cover for each other, but the shouted instruction to open up went unacknowledged.

Booth felt frustration build, it had been only about a minute or two from when he had exchanged shots with the gang members but he could feel their chances of catching them draining away with the water that still poured from the ceiling.

The door was smashed open and the agents rushed in.

The room was empty.

And the critically injured gang member was dead. A single shot to the head.

A ceiling panel had been removed and it was obvious that the alarm had provided the perfect cover to hide any noise from two people fleeing through the ducting.

Booth slumped against the wall, suddenly aware of his exhaustion and the vicious discomfort in his shoulder. He watched, detached, as further sweeps of the building and the roof space were planned and members of the FBI team went rushing off.

Booth pulled the coat tighter around himself and wondered how he was going to get back to his room on legs that suddenly felt like they'd been filled with jello.

As abruptly as it started, the alarm stopped, bringing an echoing silence, and the chilling indoor rain ceased. The silence lengthened as two familiar figures appeared in the doorway.

Booth looked up and smiled involuntarily as Bones rushed down the corridor towards him, oblivious to the treacherous surface.

She came skidding to a halt next to him, her eyes darting as she checked him for further injury. Her look of worry increased as she noticed his pallor and the shivers that were wracking his body.

Bones opened her mouth, but found that the words were stuck behind a lump that had become lodged in her throat. She didn't know whether she want to yell at him for being so reckless or to whisper in his ear how glad she was to see him safe. Instead she settled for staring at him in painful silence, her heart in her eyes.

After an agonised second, Booth reached across and gently touched her cheek, brushing away the tears that she hadn't even realised were falling.

Then she was in his arms, both drawing strength from the embrace.

The other newcomer's greeting was more restrained, but Booth recognised that ignoring Cullen's instruction that he should get back to his room would not be a good idea.

With Bones to help him, he slowly trudged back towards his bed.

* * *

Back at the lab, Hodgins had been overlaying maps for the best part of four hours. He really needed the information from Pennsylvania but had been trying to find anything else from the samples they had from each body that might tie them together.

He looked more closely at the sample on his slide. Then sighed, nothing. On to the next one.


	22. Strip

**Disclaimer** - Bones and all its lovely characters belong to someone else

**A/N** - Sorry for the delay (again) and that this chapter is not exactly designed to advance the plot but sometimes the mind is in the gutter ;-)

* * *

Their progress back to Booth's room was slow. And silent.

Neither spoke.

Booth was acutely conscious of how heavily he was leaning on Bones, but it didn't matter how much his head was yelling at his body to suck it up and make his way back under his own steam; his body simply wasn't able to co-operate.

He was also very aware of the worried, sideways looks that Bones kept shooting him, her grip tightening almost imperceptibly each time she looked at him.

He suspected her silence was only temporary. He wasn't looking forward to the angry lecture. Or witnessing the jagged worry that would so obviously lie beneath her anger. She might look beautiful when she was all riled up but he hated it when he could see that fear in her eyes, the fear that someone was about to leave her.

* * *

The tiled surface of the corridor was slick with water and more than once Bones found herself starting to slide while trying to balance Booth's unfamiliar weight.

She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and guiding him carefully back to his room.

She tried not to think about what might have happened.

She tried not to see the grievously wounded agents with blood washing around them on the tiles.

And she refused to acknowledge the image of Booth lying alongside them.

She reached for her anger, dimly recognising it as a shield against a fear that had paled her face to the same greyish pallor as Booth and still prickled her skin with gooseflesh, but she couldn't feel anything beyond that yawning horror that she might have lost him _again_.

* * *

Booth blinked when he found himself outside the familiar door to his room. The memory of the latter part of the journey entirely eluded him.

He tugged the handle and made his way into the room, his hospital bed suddenly looking infinitely attractive.

He halted, surprised when Bones' didn't release him to let him clamber onto the bed.

A concerned glance showed tears brimming in her eyes once again.

Booth cupped her cheek with his good hand and then leant forward until their foreheads were touching.

Neither spoke and they stood together, each breath slowly easing the tension in Bones' slight frame.

* * *

"You need to get out of those wet clothes." She observed suddenly, her eyes narrowing when a particularly violent shivering fit wracked Booth.

Booth looked at her dumbly as her gaze swept the room.

"Where have you put your clothes?" She asked, worried impatience tingeing her voice.

He nodded his head in the direction of a small closet and then was left, propped up carefully against the bed and dripping water on the floor as she walked away.

After a brief rummage, Bones pulled out a dry pair of sweat pants and a soft, fleecy shirt. Turning back to Booth, she picked up the towel that was hooked over a rail next to the washbasin.

There was a pause as they stood facing one and other, Bones holding out the dry clothes for him to take and Booth swaying slightly as he stared at her.

"You need to... er.... strip?" She said tentatively.

Booth nodded slowly, then grimaced as he moved to untie his pants, his shoulder refusing to allow him to untie the drawstring.

Their eyes caught again, awkwardly.

"Umm.. maybe... a little help here?" Booth asked quietly.

Bones' eyes widened but she stepped closer.

Halting directly in front of Booth, only inches apart, she looked up into his dark, pain-filled eyes and down at the drawstring.

Biting her lip and raising her eyebrow quizzically she struggled for the right way to ask permission, her hands knotted in front of her.

Booth's expression didn't change, but she inhaled sharply as she felt his right hand touch both of hers and guide them towards his waistband.

She worried her lip as her fingers, normally so nimble and precise, pulled ineffectually at the ties.

Eventually they came loose and, taking another breath, she hooked her thumbs inside the waistband and slowly pulled the pants over Booth's hips, trying desperately not register the electric feel of his skin.

She stared fixedly at the floor as as she worked the sodden fabric over his thighs, grateful that his shirt protected his modesty but making sure that she stared fixedly at the floor just in case.

* * *

Booth's breathing had stopped entirely as he looked down on the top of Bones' head as she eased his pants, and herself, down his body.

It was an image to bring a thousand fantasies parading through his head and led to a response in his body which he could scarcely credit given that he could barely stand.

He tried to distract himself by closing his eyes and thinking of all manner of unpleasant thoughts, praying that she wouldn't notice _it _and trying to will_ it _away.

Once the pants were around his ankles, Booth was able to step out of them while leaning on Bones for balance. Then he stuck his feet into the legs of the dry pair that Bones held out to him, standing rigid as she pulled them up.

* * *

Feeling uncomfortably warm and unable to find her usual clinical detachment, Bones patted his hips lightly, and distractedly, as the pants settled into place.

Their gazes met and they both recognised the blush on their cheeks and the glittering but embarrassed excitement in their eyes.

Booth swallowed, unable to break eye contact, as Bones stepped even closer, her breath warm on his neck as she slowly eased the soaking shirt off his shoulders.

She paused for a moment, her eyes darting all over his face before raking down his heavily bandaged chest.

Then she pulled the shirt off the other shoulder and there was no way he could mistake the intimate way her fingers caressed the skin down his arm.

As the shirt fell to the floor discarded, the hand that had been resting on her for support tangled in her hair, his wrist lying flat against the back of his neck, and he pulled her against him, their lips meeting in ecstatic passion and in stark contrast to the exaggerated care with which every other part of their bodies touched.


End file.
